


The Curse of Strahd - Draconian Arbiters

by Ellaria_Sunreaver



Category: Curse of Strahd - Fandom, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27867526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellaria_Sunreaver/pseuds/Ellaria_Sunreaver
Summary: Hey Frens.This is an archive for my DND Group.  Enjoy.Spoilers (obviously) for the Curse of Strahd campaign.Story is told from the point of view of the group's light cleric, Ellaria Sunreaver, priestess to the Everlight.  Each chapter is in chronological order, but slightly disconnected to capture the main highlights of each session.
Kudos: 1





	1. The Long Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a hard fight, the group has earned a long rest. But the house has other plans.

Gowan was fast, but not fast enough. As he attempted to flank the creature, she screamed and thrust four ghostly talons into Gowan’s back. Gowan roared with pain, then stumbled out onto the rainy balcony, clutching his chest, blood pouring from his ears, nose, and mouth. Life drain. Ellaria recognized the attack immediately. He slumped onto his knees and crumpled onto the stone ground in a heap of muscle and steel, gasping for breath.

“OVER HERE, YOU WRETCHED CREATURE!” Jagvier thundered animalistically, as he banged his shield with his sword. The creature seemed confused and distracted for a moment, wheeling it’s purple ghostly figure around, screeching in it’s rage.

Ellaria managed to keep it at bay while the rest of the party attacked it, her Sunstriker training on full display. Jagvier's divine shield spell coursed through her body, melding with her own magic, the raw divine energy pulsing around her. She felt the powerful juxtaposition of two gods - thunder and sunfire.

“KI-YA!” Neri brought her quarterstaff down through the spectre as Lycaeus’s deft blades silently caught where it’s abdomen would be. The spectre dissipated into the air with an unholy shriek. It was over. 

Ellaria said a silent prayer of thanks in her head that they were able to defeat the creature. Lycaeus and Remington dashed out onto the balcony; the rain soaked them both instantly. Lycaeus wrapped Gowan’s arm around his shoulder, and Remington took the other side of the fighter. They both dragged him off the ragged stone floor, and dumped him onto the dusty bed inside. Gowan dropped onto the bed like a dead weight and groaned, hanging onto consciousness by a few threads. The blood had already stopped flowing, but he still gagged and coughed, his lungs scrambling for air.

“He needs rest. A good long one.” Ellaria said. “We should sleep here for the night.”

“Erm, excuse moi, did you not just 'elp us fight ze angry screaming banshee zat materialized out of ze wall?” Neri pleaded. Her arms were crossed in front of her, an eyebrow cocked in disbelief. "And you want to SLEEP 'ere?" The monk added.

“Agreed, we should NOT sleep here. This place drips with evil energy.” Gwynnhwyfar remarked incredulously, her eyes scanning the walls for the next forsaken creature that might come through them.

“I understand your concerns, but if we don’t rest, the next creature that breathes on Gowan will kill him.” Ellaria responded. A deafening silence fell between the seven of them. Ellaria glanced at the six faces staring at her with skepticism in their eyes. 

"I am not pleased with this suggestion either, but we do not have another option here." Remington chimed in airily. He sighed deeply in resignation. Ellaria was silently grateful for his support. She tried, unsuccessfully, to hide a small smile.

Lycaeus cast his eyes down, slightly snarled in acceptance, and turned to Ellaria.

“You and I only need four hours of trance at a time. Let the others rest, we’ll watch Gowan and keep an ear out in four hour shifts.” Lycaeus offered. His raspy voice was more impatient than usual. Ellaria nodded slowly and hummed in agreement, searching the other’s faces for the same.

Instead, she found an uneasy understanding of their situation. The horror story that was slowly unraveling in the house gave Ellaria a shivering tingle that crept up her spine like a spider. She was sure the others felt the same, if not more intensely.

Lycaeus took the first watch and Ellaria tried in earnest to trance. She was unsure if it would come easily, but as she closed her eyes, she gave in to unconsciousness.

*****

“Ellaria.” Lycaeus gruffly woke her up with a gentle push on her arm.

She stretched and looked at the wood elf with squinted, bleary eyes. She nodded and yawned, “I’m up, I’m up. Go close your eyes, lethalli-”

Lycaeus cut her off with a raised hand and put a finger to his lips, beckoning her to be quiet. His bright emerald eyes glinted in the reflected moonlight and he pointed them towards the barricaded door. Ellaria inhaled sharply and followed his gaze with her own.

"There's something outside the door moving around." He breathed.

Ellaria felt her heart stop, then race. "What is it?" She mouthed silently.

"I couldn't see anything, but it's very close to the door, whatever it is." Lycaeus replied in a soft whisper.

"Should we wake them?" Ellaria asked, widening her eyes, gesturing at the still bodies sleeping contently around the room. Her stomach sank thinking about how her suggestion to rest here put all of them in danger.

Lycaeus closed his eyes and shook his head briskly, raising his hand again. "If it wanted to come through that door, it would have already tried. Keep an eye on the door and watch over Gowan and the others. If we have to, we'll deal with it in the morning. Let the others rest, like you suggested."

Ellaria nodded silently in agreement. Relief washed over her - at least someone supported her decision. Lycaeus found a corner in the room, brushed the dust off the floor quietly, and sat with his arms and legs folded, back leaning against the peeling wallpaper. He pulled his hood up, gave Ellaria a slight nod and a smirk, then closed his eyes.

The first two hours were eerily silent, save for the gentle creak of the house as it yielded slightly to the howling wind outside. She prayed, silently mouthing the words to the Canticle of Light, beseeching her goddess for protection. For Gowan. For the lost energy to be returned to her. 

When she was done, she moved closer to where Gowan slept and softly put a cool hand on his sweat-drenched forehead. He twitched and murmured something incomprehensible, brow knotting as his lips moved wordlessly. A prayer? A dream?

Ellaria sighed and removed her hand. No fever, but his breathing was still ragged and arduous. She held the orb of her staff close to her heart, closed her eyes tight, and implored Seranrae to mend his wounds and ease his pain, whispering her favorite verses quietly as she did.

_“O Dawnflower, Everlight, Lady of the Sun, hear my cry:_

_Guide me through the blackest nights._

_Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked._

_Make me to rest in the warmest places._

_My Goddess, know my heart:_

_Take from me a life of sorrow._

_Lift me from a world of pain._

_Judge me worthy of Your endless pride… “_

The orb interrupted her vigil as it suddenly glowed hot in her hands. Her eyes fluttered back open.

Then, she heard it.

_Thump. Scraaaaape._

Whatever it was, it was coming from the other side of the door they just blocked off.

“Goddess preserve me,” she barely mouthed the prayer as she took in a hitched, fearful breath. She soundlessly crept towards the door. Climbing silently onto the cabinet that Jagvier pushed in front of the door, she gingerly pressed a pointed ear to the door.

_Clang. Thump. Scraaaaaaaaaape._

The unmistakable sound of metal dragging along a stone floor. 

Ellaria peered out of a small crack in the decrepit door where it didn’t fully shut. She watched in terror as the possessed suit of armor re-assembled itself and once again stood vigil, then fell quiet. A snore ripped through the silence and startled Ellaria completely off the cabinet she was kneeling on. She jerked her head behind her to locate the source: Jagvier murmured something to himself and flipped over in his sleep.

A breath escaped her lungs that she didn’t know she was holding and her eyes squeezed closed for a moment.

Turning her gaze back to Gowan, she could see his breathing was more even, but still slightly labored. She estimated he would recover by morning. 

She hoped. She prayed instead.


	2. Covenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A promise is made.

“Ready?” Ellaria looked over her shoulder, asking the druid.

“Ready.” Gwynnhwyfar responded with a whisper, wide-eyed, but gave her a half-hearted smile.

Ellaria tip-toed into the open door gingerly, dust flying up in small gray puffs where the toes of her boots gently touched the floor. Like all the other rooms, it was lit with eerie candlelight, as if someone were already in the room, but the cake of dust and cobwebs indicated otherwise. The musty smell of old wood furniture and aged parchment hung heavily in the room.

A child’s room.

Two beds with worn rumpled sheets and blue wool blankets positioned squarely on opposite sides. A toy chest with a windmill carved onto the sides sat layered with dust and a small spider’s web spun off the side, attaching to the door frame.

On the left, facing the toy chest, was a doll house - an eerily accurate replica of the same house they were currently investigating. Ellaria crept in further to closely examine the doll house, but the caked layer of dust and cobwebs prevented any further inspection.

Gwynnhwyfar silently inched through the door, leaving it cracked behind her, and her feet rooted to the floor in terror.

Two small skeletons, curled up together, lay in the middle of the floor. The smaller one held a familiar straw and cloth doll.

“Oh no…” Gwennhwyfar groaned. Ellaria turned and audibly gasped as she finally noticed the skeletons. A pit grew in her stomach and she felt like she was being pulled through the floor. They died here, holding each other. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

“Hello?” A small child’s voice came from one of the beds.

Ellaria glanced at the direction the voice came from. Rose, the little spirit girl they all saw outside had appeared in the room, sitting demurely on the bed. She wore the same cloak and fine clothes, but her presence here felt more anchored for some reason. Ellaria knelt, making herself as non-threatening as possible while her heart thrummed in her throat.

The chilling silence fell on the room like a blanket of thick snow.

“What are you doing in our room?” Rose asked. Her little head tilted to the side, her big, childlike, but ghostly eyes looking the cleric up and down.

“We came here looking for the monster you told us about when we were outside.” Ellaria replied.

“We haven’t left this room for a long time. It’s been so cold and lonely.” Rose responded, a wisp of childlike puzzlement falling on her transparent face.

A wave of confusion rolled over Ellaria, but she shook her head, telling herself there’s time later to ponder the ghost’s words. Now she needed to focus. The little girl’s sad eyes were peering at Ellaria with something she can only guess was a mixture of loneliness and hope.

“What… happened here? What happened to you here?” Ellaria asked, nodding towards the skeletons curled up on the floor. 

“Mommy locked us in here. She said there was a monster in the basement, and we had to stay here. We haven’t seen our mommy or daddy in a long time.” Rose replied. 

“You… you died here… starved…” Ellaria shook her head in disbelief. What mother would do this to her child? What kind of monster? Her voice crackled with grief imagining the horror and pain they experienced.

“Yes,” came the girl's meek reply. The little boy materialized next to her, burying his face into her cloak. Thorn walked out to where the skeletons lay on the floor. He reached down to pick up his doll and scurried back to his sister.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. Can you tell us how to find the basement?” Gwynnhwyfar asked slowly. Ellaria was surprised by her directness; the druid had said little during their exploration in the house.

The little boy walked quickly to the dollhouse and pointed at an alcove that seemed to match one of the rooms nearby, then returned to his sister's side. 

“There’s a stairwell that leads to the basement.” Rose said, looking downward. Even though her ghostly appearance robbed her of most color, Ellaria could see how her cheeks were sunken in from the starvation they endured.

“Okay… thank you…” Gwynnhwyfar replied, and slowly started to back out of the room, eyes wide.

“No, don’t go! We’ve been alone for so long…” Rose reacted. Ellaria could feel the pull of magic in the air. Rose’s ghostly eyes glowed a bright blue as she reached out her small, transparent hand.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Ellaria countered, her hand outstretched. “If you help us, if you can help us defeat what’s in the basement, I will give you full burial rights.” The words spilled out of her mouth before she could think properly.

Rose’s eyes returned to their ghostly appearance; her concentration broken by Ellaria’s words. Ellaria shifted closer to the ghostly children, still kneeling.

“I can send you to my goddess’s side. There’s no pain there. There’s no fear, no hunger, no cold. And she will never abandon you. You will never be lonely again.” Ellaria’s heart was beating so loudly in her ears, she was worried the suit of armor downstairs might hear it. Her mind pleaded with her goddess. _Please. Please let this work._

Rose paused and considered the offer. Her little brother tugged her cloak and looked up at her. She knelt and cupped the boy's face gently. “I think she can help us,” Rose said quietly to the little boy.

Rose turned to Ellaria and pointed a slender finger at the skeletons on the floor, “We can’t leave without our bones.”

“Alright. I will take care of you. I will release you from this wretched place, I swear it.” Ellaria responded quietly, her voice breaking, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Rose tentatively reached out a ghostly hand and rested it on top of Ellaria’s open outstretched hand. She faintly smiled, nodded, and vanished with her brother.

The covenant was made.


	3. Oath Keepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellaria keeps her promise to the children.

“Wait. What about zis one?” Neri pointed to the skeleton with knives buried beneath it’s broken ribcage. Neri bent down to thoroughly inspect it; she paused and took in a breath. “It’s… it’s her.” Neri turned to Remmington as the realization washed over her with a mixture of sadness and shock.

Remmington’s eyebrows arched in surprise and blinked. “Her? Who is ‘her’?” he questioned.

Comprehension swept over Ellaria and she softly gasped. “The spectre,” Neri remarked quietly before Ellaria could open her mouth. The shrieking banshee that materialized out of the wall, screaming in rage when Neri opened the baby’s room.

“We take her as well, then. She deserves rest, too.” Ellaria declared. The group looked at her in disbelief, except Neri, who removed the cloak from her satchel without further questions and reverently wrapped the skeleton’s bones in it.

The winding, narrow staircase descended into the dark abyss. What little light they had was swallowed up by the thick swathe of blackness until they finally reached the bottom; Ellaria was the last down the stairs. Rats and insects skittered across the damp floor. Water dripped down from an unidentified source, beading on the cobwebs that lined the corners.

A metallic scrape against stone reverberated down the hallway, cutting through the darkness. Everyone jumped and grabbed for their weapons.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Remmington’s hushed voice came quickly after.

“Trying to light my candle!” Gowan answered indifferently. Ellaria shook her head and rolled her eyes. Jagvier strolled over with a now lit torch and transferred light to Gowan’s candle.

“Idiot,” he mumbled as he continued down the hallway.

“I found the crypts, over here,” came a strained whisper from Gwynnhwyfar somewhere in the inky darkness. Ellaria lit the orb on her staff and light poured into the musty hallway. She made her way towards where she heard Gwynnhwyfar’s voice, with Neri closely behind her.

The three of them arrived at a stone alcove with an open door. Further inspection on the door frame revealed a name as Ellaria brushed away the dust and cobwebs:

WALTER DURST

Ellaria turned to Neri, “Here. This is where we should set her to rest. She will be with her child and I can send them both away from this prison.”

Neri’s eyes widened. “You… want me… to go into ze crypt. By myself?”

“I’ll go with you,” Ellaria reassured her. “Go, I’ll be right behind you.” She tried to give Neri a reassuring smile, but Neri still looked at her incredulously. “So, if I get locked in zis crypt, you will get me out, yes?”

“Of course. I’ll be right beside you the whole time. I promise.” Ellaria answered. Neri still looked at her with doubt. Nonetheless, she complied and stepped cautiously into the tomb.

Gently placing the cloak containing the bones onto the floor, Neri’s gray eyes looked down nervously.

“Errr… bless… you?” she offered, wringing her hands, and then scurrying back out the door behind Gwynnhwyfar. She peeked her head over Gwynnhwyfar’s shoulder, eyes wide with anticipation.

Ellaria grabbed a candle from her satchel, lighting it with her tinderbox, and then setting the candle on the floor at the feet of the skeleton.

She breathed deeply, repeating the silent plea in her head. _Please let this work. Please let this work._

Ellaria clasped her hands over the lit orb on her staff. She took a long breath, closed her eyes, and prayed aloud:

_“These truths the Dawnflower has revealed to us:_

_As there is but one world,_

_One life, one death, there is however_

_Infinite mercy and glory in her light._

_O Seranrae hear my cry:_

_Seat this soul by Your side in death._

_Make her one within Your glory._

_And let the world once more see Your favor._

_Release her spirit into the light._

_Across the darkness and all the stars in the sky._

_Rest her at your right hand,_

_And keep her in your love and comfort._

_For You are the fire at the heart of the world,_

_And comfort is only Yours to give.”_

A rush of air swirled in the crypt. Ellaria opened her eyes to find a glowing blue light quiver in front of her. More small blue lights manifested like fireflies and coalesced over the skeleton. A familiar ghostly voice whispered, “thank you,” and the blue lights faded.

Ellaria smiled tentatively and blew out the candle with a huff.

*************

Gwynnhwyfar, Neri, and Ellaria crept down the dark hallway as Ellaria’s staff lit the way, pouring light into the dark crevices. Water continued to drip from the ceiling and pooled into the cracks in the stone floor. They could see the huff of their breathing in the chilly air that seemed to cover the basement air like a thick blanket. 

Ellaria peeked around a corner and stuck her staff into the alcove, but found it already occupied. Remmington was already inspecting another pair of crypts, the half-elf’s jade eyes scanning for clues. Lycaeus slinked into the room behind the three women quietly, peering behind him to confirm he wasn’t followed. Remmington blew the dust away with a deep breath and brushed the damp cobwebs aside, revealing another name:

ROSEVALDA DURST

Another door further down revealed yet another name:

THORNBOLDT DURST

The doors to these crypts were closed, unlike the others. Ellaria’s heart skipped a beat, trying to imagine what creature could be lurking within. Ellaria and Lycaeus took a deep breath, wrapped their fingers around the stone slab, and pulled, groaning with he weight of the door. Remmington strained to pull the other door open by himself to no avail. “Grrrr…. It’s stuck…”

Neri ambled over and gripped the door. They both pulled hard and the door opened with a scrape against the stone floor.

Nothing. Both crypts were empty, apart from two well-made coffins laying in the center of each room. The mahogany wood was expertly shaped and carved by hand, a mark of the family’s wealth.

Ellaria, still standing in Rose’s crypt, turned to Gwynnhwyfar, “Could you please hand me Rose’s remains?”

Gwynnhwyfar complied, reverently handing Ellaria the bones she separated out from Thorn’s. 

She exhaled nervously and laid them down delicately in the coffin that sat in the middle of the small room. Lycaeus removed the doll with the yellow dress from his satchel and handed it with a faint smile to Ellaria. She took it from his hands and a small smile formed across her lips as well – she recalled having a similar doll when she was a little girl, except hers had a blue dress instead.

“Is this where I’m going to sleep?” Rose’s ghost appeared again beside her coffin. Her sudden presence startled the group of them, but Rose seemed nonchalant.

Ellaria hitched a breath and knelt to her level.

“This is where I’m going to lay your body to rest so I can perform the ritual and send you to Seranrae.” Ellaria replied with a gentle smile.

The ghost looked at her with a blank expression on her transparent face. Her eyes flitted to Lycaeus, then Remmington, Neri, and Gwynnhwyfar. 

“Where’s Thorn?” Rose asked, breaking the silent tension. “I can’t… I won’t leave him alone.” She stood a little taller with defiance in her voice, clasping her hands behind her back. “I have to make sure he’s ok first.” Ellaria’s heart squeezed. Even in death, until the very end, she was still protective of her little brother.

“Thorn has his own crypt, but I can lay him to rest here with you if you prefer.” Ellaria offered.

Rose paused and pondered a moment. “He usually likes to sleep in his own bed.” She replied, nodding her head.

Ellaria sighed in resignation and offered Rose her hand. “Alright,” she replied, still smiling softly. “Come with me and let’s put your brother to bed.”

Rose paused and glanced at the doll in Ellaria’s arms. Her eyes lit up with an expression of happiness Ellaria guessed had eluded her for a long time. She folded her small ethereal hand into Ellaria’s, and they walked together to Thorn’s crypt.

Lycaeus placed Thorn’s small bones into the coffin with a reverence and tenderness Ellaria didn’t expect. He paused a moment, and looked up at Ellaria, then strode past her. “I recognize skill when I see it.” He muttered as he passed.

Thorn’s small apparition appeared beside his sister’s; his large childlike eyes widened with anxiety, but after settling his gaze on his sister, his breathing evened and relaxed. He buried his face in her cloak again, but as soon as Ellaria took his doll out of her satchel and handed it to him, she saw a small grin pull across the boy’s face. He drew the doll close to him and clutched it tightly. Rose knelt and held her brother close. 

“Are you ready to leave this place, little brother?” Rose asked quietly. “We’re never going to be alone again. We’re just going to just go to sleep now, and when we wake up, we’ll be free.” She offered. Thorn nodded quietly into his sister’s shoulder, burying his face in her hair.

Rose stood and tugged on Ellaria’s robe. Ghostly tears formed in the corner of her eyes as she looked up at the cleric. “We’re ready.” She whispered.

Ellaria delved into her satchel again and pulled out two white candles, lighting them as she did before and placing them at the base of Thorn’s coffin. She knelt down one more time and placed a hand on each of their ghostly cheeks, smiling gently at them. “This will be fast. I promise.” She comforted them.

Ellaria rose again and folded both of her hands on top of the staff’s orb. She closed her eyes prayed once more:

_“These truths the Dawnflower has revealed to us:_

_As there is but one world,_

_One life, one death, there is however_

_Infinite mercy and glory in her light._

_O Seranrae hear my cry:_

_Seat these little ones by Your side in death._

_Make her one within Your glory._

_And let the world once more see Your favor._

_Release their spirits into the light._

_Across the darkness and all the stars in the sky._

_Rest them at your right hand,_

_And keep them in your love and comfort._

_For You are the fire at the heart of the world,_

_And comfort is only Yours to give.”_

As she prayed, Thorn crawled into his coffin and curled up on his side, clinging to the doll. He closed his eyes, and his breath evened out. The tightness from Rose’s hand pulling on her robe evaporated and Ellaria felt the chill of the small ghost gliding past her.

When Ellaria opened her eyes, Rose was gone. She made her way back Rose’s crypt and found her apparition there, laying in her coffin. Ellaria offered the doll with the pale-yellow dress to the girl; she reached out and snuggled it, her eyes closing a final time, and her apparition finally faded into blackness.

A rush of air seemed to come from no direction and all directions at the same time. Ellaria’s robes fluttered around her feet and the squeal of laughing children filled the empty stone crypts. The orb on her staff glowed gently brighter, then returned to normal.

“May you walk in Fields of Gold.” Ellaria whispered, hoping her blessing would carry them onward.


	4. The Narrow Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zombies in the hallways!

Ellaria tried to think fast. She couldn’t see anything except Neri, but she could hear the sounds of clanging metal strikes against flesh and bone. She rummaged into her pack for her holy water and sprinkled some into her hands, then clasped the orb on her staff and shut her eyes. In her mind’s eye she found Gowan, Lycaeus, and Jagvier, all panting from pain and exertion. She uttered a prayer for their protection and strength.

One zombie raised it’s rotting arm and struck Gowan on the shoulder with a wet _THUD_. Gowan groaned in pain as the claws ripped at his shoulder, splattering blood on the stone wall. A stomach-turning stench filled the hallway and Gowan barely shook off the zombie’s paralysis attack, coughing and sputtering into his glove. Color started to drain from his face and sweat poured down his temples.

Gowan fought with power and speed, thrusting and slashing his sword towards the ghoul as it swiped and screeched at him, but his sword failed to find any purchase to stop it’s advance. One heavy swing crashed into the zombie’s flank, but the sword wedged, stuck in a rib bone. Gowan struggled to remove it, grunting with fatigue, but the ghoul saw it’s opportunity and took it, grasping Gowan’s neck and sinking it’s sharp teeth into him. The crunch of flesh and bone echoed through the hall as Gowan screamed, then fell silent, collapsing onto the ground.

Gowan, once again, lay on the floor in a crumpled heap, but this time barely breathing, gurgling and choking on his own blood. Blood gushed from the wound in his neck, soaking his face and armor with scarlet.

“I’ll save you, you big, dumb brute!” Lycaeus growled as he grabbed Gowan by the arm and whisked him backwards behind him in one fierce heave, wrenching him just barely out of the way of the zombie swinging it’s sharp claws down towards Gowan’s chest. A stripe of red painted the floor as Gowan’s body dragged across it. Despite his pain, Lycaeus leapt forward and dug his blades into the zombie’s chest. It howled, then disintegrated into dust, but another zombie shambled in behind it.

Gwynnhwyfar skirted the hallway corner with Remmington, out of breath from running to the scene as she appraised Gowan’s dire situation. She knelt down and rested Gowan’s head gently in her lap, closed her eyes gently, and folded her hands across.

Ellaria was always fascinated how magic manifested in different people, especially healing magic. Unlike her own healing spells, which flashed with sunlight and fire, Gwynnhwyfar channeled a more ancient magic. Flowering vines grew out of the rigid stone floor and the hallway was flooded with a heavy scent of fresh earth and wildflowers, a welcome reprieve from the stench of decaying zombies. Soft, green light gently enveloped Gowan’s body and the wounds closed as Gwynnhwyfar serenely focused, pouring her magic into him.

Remmington grasped the lute from his back and strummed, the strings jangling through the heavy, musty air. A soft violet radiance emanated from his instrument, swirling through the air in wisps and curls.

_“Nooooooooooo ooooooooone kicks like Gowan,_

_No one fights like Gowan,_

_No one's abs and arms are as ripped as Gowan’s!_

_For there's no fighter known half as manly,_

_Straightforward and honest to care!_

_All the ladies flock to him a-swooning,_

_While flexing his arms and chest out bare!”_

Gowan shot up to his feet almost immediately, eyes glowing still with green, ageless magic. As if in a trance, he wordlessly removed the heavy crossbow from his back and leveled it at the zombie that previously sank it’s teeth into his neck. The crossbow fired with a heavy _CLACK_ and the bolt sailed through the air.

Time seemed to slow down as Lycaeus deftly arched his back and dodged the bolt that flew by his face, the tip barely grazing his cheek and cutting a small lock of his hair as it tore through the air. The bolt found it’s mark in the zombie’s gaping maw, tearing through the back of it’s skull and out the other side. The zombie collapsed to the ground, disintegrating into dust with a shriek of pain.

“How many of these damn things are in here?!” Remmington exclaimed, still plucking at his lute, casting protection spells as quickly as he could.

Neri aimed her crossbow, leveling it at another zombie down the hall. She squeezed the trigger and the bolt shot out with a loud _CLACK_ , but the bolt sailed past the zombie’s head and within a hair’s length of Jagvier’s nose. He glowered at her as the bolt shattered on the stone wall behind him, his sword still raised from blocking yet another ghoul’s wildly flailing claws.

“Errrr… Je suis désolé, mon ami!” Neri called towards Jagvier as she winced and put her crossbow away. She removed her staff from her back and readied herself to strike.

Ellaria finally rounded the corner as Neri vaulted off Lycaeus’s shoulder, flipping through the air effortlessly. She brought her quarterstaff down on the ghoul’s head as she soared above it; a sickening crunch snapped it’s spine in a flurry of two powerful heel strikes. 

Lycaeus growled in pain, still kneeling on the floor as he struggled to stand, but failed. Blood seeped out of his leather boot and greaves, filling the cracks in the worn stone floor with crimson and pooling at Ellaria’s own feet.

“Goddess in the sky! What happened to your foot?! How are you walking like that?!” Ellaria gasped, studying Lycaeus’s foot. 

“Not well,” Lycaeus hissed through gritted teeth over his shoulder, glancing in Ellaria’s direction. He hitched an agonizing breath, but his daggers still held the zombie at bay.

Ellaria tucked her staff under her arm and attempted to warm her hands, rubbing them together furiously. Her fingertips were ice cold, but it would have to do for now.

“Hold still, lethallin.” She said

Approaching Lycaeus from behind, she gently wrapped her hands around the side of his face and down his neck. She took in a breath, closed her eyes, and focused, dipping her magic into his body. Warm sunlight coursed through Lycaeus until Ellaria found the torn hole in his foot. Her magic weaved through the wound, mending the ripped muscle and shattered bone. She felt him release the tension in his neck as the pain eased and he sighed in relief. 

“Better?” She asked as a smirk crossed her face.

Lycaeus didn’t even turn around, but she saw him nod as he crouched again and dashed behind the other zombie shambling down the hall, knives at the ready.

“You’re welcome.” Ellaria muttered and rolled her eyes, griping her staff again.

Lycaeus vaulted off the wall, swinging his daggers in rhythmic consistency, each move measured, but powerful. His attacks sank into rotting flesh, ripping out green ichor as he withdrew the blades. Finally, the last zombie disintegrated into dust as it folded over, it’s head littered with crossbow bolts and gashes from Gowan’s sword. The seven of them let out a heavy sigh and stared at each other in silence, save for the heavy breathing. Then, a hearty laugh from Jagvier as he threw his head back. 

“Hah! Glorious victory!” he bellowed with a roar, thrusting his sword upwards to the ceiling. Ellaria bubbled out a laugh and shook her head. Several others echoed her relief with huffs of laughter. Neri and Lycaeus nodded to each other, both impressed with the other’s fighting abilities, but acknowledging a silent competition had started between them.

Jagvier lumbered over to Gowan and closed the rest of his wounds with a solid pat from a broad hand on Gowan’s back.

“We need to find you some better armor, friend.” Jagvier rumbled at Gowan. “Otherwise we’ll have to carry you out of this house in pieces!” His laughter at his own comment thundered through the hallway. Gowan snorted with laughter, then sighed with relief as his pain finally eased.

“Come. We should maybe sit? Just for a bit?” Remmington suggested.

Everyone searched each other’s faces for an answer to the collective unsaid question. _Where?_ Uncertainty hung in the air as thick as the exhaustion they all felt.

Non, absolutely not. I’m not sitting and waiting for more abominations to attack us.” Neri quipped.

A faint voice broke through the silence. A small child’s voice.

“Come to the room with the table. You will be safe there.” Rose’s voice resonated in Ellaria’s head. Ellaria gasped quietly, then smiled.

She looked up at the wearied group. 

“It’s Rose. She… she said we’ll be safe in the other room.” Ellaria breathed.

Everyone eyed her, then each other with astonishment, but followed her without question.

The others settled in, finding an area to claim as their own for a few hours. Ellaria found a corner and cleared the cobwebs out; she sat with a sigh, her legs folded underneath her. Remmington gently plucked his lute and hummed a gentle song in perfect harmony. Everyone relaxed, releasing the tension in their bodies left over from battle.

Ellaria breathed deeply and set into her trance.

************

Ellaria’s vision faded from the damp, dark stone walls and floor. Then, suddenly, bright. Warm. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight. Her attention turned to the lush grove of trees that surrounded her, the feel of fresh, soft earth and moss under her feet. The towering oak and maple trees rustled gently, and birds sang overhead, flitting through the branches at the edge of a field of golden barley. 

“Elysium,” Ellaria breathed to herself in awe, her mouth agape in wonder as she strode towards the field. The summer breeze rolled out into what Ellaria knew was the Fields of Gold - the gateway for souls entering Seranrae’s domain.

Another welcoming, gentle breeze rushed behind her and the two children scampered past her, laughing and chasing each other into the field. A woman with short blonde hair and plain servant’s clothes stood in the distance, holding a peacefully sleeping baby. She waved to the children who just ran into the sea of amber grain, an expression of elation washing over her face as she spotted them. 

To the right of her stood Seranrae herself - a beautiful dark-haired woman with a kind, smiling face. Her red and golden robes fluttered in the summer breeze, glowing with divine light. She knelt down and caught the running children into her outstretched arms, kissing each one on the head as they leapt into her embrace, and whirling them around as they squealed with joy.

Rose glanced back and waved enthusiastically at Ellaria, and Thorn smiled as he took his sister’s hand and shyly waved with the other one. The blonde woman beamed, tears spilling down her face, as she held her little bundle close to her heart. “Thank you,” she whispered softly at Ellaria.

Seranrae smiled broadly at her cleric and nodded with approval and pride. 

Ellaria knelt and bowed low. She smiled tearfully, picking her head back up, and she sang:

_“I’ll remember you when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley,  
May you feel the Sun in Her perfect sky as you walk in Fields of Gold.”_

She watched as the four of them turned, hand in hand, as they strolled towards the golden palace in the distance.

Reality faded gently back into the damp, cold room. Real tears streamed down her face in gratitude – the Goddess answered her prayer. They were free. She dried her face hurriedly with her robes, unsure if the others would notice her puffy eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut again and took a deep breath, her hand over her heart.

“Sleep well, little ones.” She murmured to herself as a smile bloomed on her face.


	5. Of Shadows and Shiny Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes explore the basement.

“I have a poem I’d like to read… erm… that is, for the children. I wrote it earlier, but I thought it would be proper to read it to them where they were laid to rest.” Remmington said, running his hand through his hair.

Ellaria beamed, “I think that would be lovely.”

Remmington returned her smile, his eyes lighting up at her approval. 

“Come, I’ll go with you” Ellaria offered, increasing the light on her staff and teeming the dark hallway with light.

He followed down the hall. It was a short walk to the crypts from the room Rose suggested they rest in. When they arrived, there was nothing but silence and the slow _drip drip drip_ of water in the distance.

He removed the parchment from his satchel and took a deep breath, glancing at Ellaria one more time. She nodded at him, still smiling at him.

_“The sounds of children no more, as they lay down to rest  
Their joy and laughter gone, no longer time to invest.  
As their memories are left amongst the stars guiding light.  
No longer will they be alone to fight against the night.  
Remember the Rose and the Thorn in the gentle breeze they wave.  
For the gods and goddesses their souls to save.”_

Ellaria’s heart swelled and tears stung the corners of her eyes. He eyed her with what she could only guess was a deep empathy welling in his own heart. “That was lovely.” She breathed, a lump forming in her throat. “I’m sure they loved it too.”

Remmington nodded and laid the parchment at the base of the door of Rose’s crypt. They both stood in silence for a moment, then wandered back to the safe room.

********

“I wonder who exactly that is.” Neri mused at the statue that stood before them. A handsome man with noble clothes gazed down at them with stony eyes. A wolf stood stoic at his side. 

Lycaeus’s attention, however, was noticeably fixated on the shining orb resting in the statue’s hand. He licked his lips in anticipation and crept forward.

Before any of them could admonish him not to touch it, Lycaeus grasped the orb and removed it, inspecting it closely and turning it in his hands. A series of chanting whispers melted out of the walls and into the room; four shadows appeared in the room and swiped at Lycaeus.

He flipped backwards, tumbling through the air over the shoulders of one of the shadows and drawing one of his blades in a defensive stance. A snarl crept across his lips as he stuffed the orb into his satchel and quickly drew his second blade behind his back. Three scratches marked his cheek where the shade clawed at his face.

Gowan and Neri brought their weapons down on two different shades, slicing through air, but still finding purchase in the middle of the shadowy figures. Lycaeus thrust his blades into the back of one of the creatures, only to have it wheel around and screech, flailing wildly at him. Neri brought down one more swing from her quarterstaff, feinted left, then kicked and headbutted the shadow where it’s ghostly face would be.

“You look foolish, monk.” Gowan smugly remarked.

“Eh? You’re the one holding an unlit candle, fighter. You come even to a battle of wits unarmed, no?” Neri retorted, her eyes fixated on the shadow in front of her.

“LET ME SHOW YOU HOW A HOLY WARRIOR HANDLES THESE FIENDS.” Jagvier bellowed, rushing out of the darkness, and bringing his sword down through the shade. It braced it’s ghostly hand in front of it’s face to no avail as his sword drove light right through the center of the shade. Light poured out of it’s mouth and ears as it screamed in pain, then evaporated.

Gwynnhwyfar shot flame through the room, yelling “MOVE!” at Jagvier. He dove to the side, tumbling out of the way just in time. As the shadow burned and thrashed uncontrollably, Lycaeus dug his blades deep into it’s back. A final cry from the shade filled the room with an unholy sound and it vanished into thin air.

“Well, I’ve had enough of this.” Ellaria breezily remarked as she pointed her staff at the two remaining shadows. Sunlight poured from the orb and immediately incinerated the remaining two shadows, dissipating them into the darkness as they shrieked. 

Ellaria deflated, then sighed, marched over to Lycaeus, fury burning her ears pink. She pointed at his face and came in close.

“Put. It. Back.” Ellaria hissed.

Lycaeus glared back at her and narrowed his green eyes. The slash on his cheek glowed an unearthly violet with necrotic magic. She paused and softened a bit, tracing the marks on his face with her eyes.

“Why would I put it back? We already killed the things guarding it.” Lycaeus countered.

“We don’t know if it’s a beacon that’s attracting those creatures towards us.” Ellaria eased back from him, her brow still furrowed.

“Um… If I may…” Gwynnhwyfar interrupted. Both of the elves turned to look at her, matching scowls on both of their faces. “It doesn’t seem to be attracting anything, but it’s very valuable. It could be traded for a good sum of gold.” She blinked at both of them, hoping to diffuse the tension between them.

A satisfied smirk crossed Lycaeus’s face and he raised his eyebrows as he looked back at Ellaria.

Ellaria sighed in resignation, closing her eyes. “Just… be sure to investigate these items thoroughly before you put your sticky fingers all over them.”

Lycaeus didn’t have time to make a witty remark as Ellaria stormed off towards the other hallway.

She turned the corner to find another door. Gowan’s footsteps grew louder behind her and she heard him stop behind her. Ellaria sensed something different and studied the door. It _breathed_.

“Wait, Gowan… that’s no door.” Ellaria warned, her hand outstretched behind her.

Her warning fell on deaf ears as Gowan already had his crossbow leveled at the door. He pulled the trigger, and a bolt flew into the door with a _thud_ , but an agonizing roar came from the door instead of silence. A rolling tongue and sharp teeth formed as the mimic, still in the shape of a door, hopped towards Gowan.

Gowan, thoroughly confused as to how this door was not only hopping, but growling and gnashing it’s teeth, swung half-heartedly at the door with both his blades. “What…” he yelled, “how… what is this thing?!”

The buzz of battle tingled in the air once again as the group slashed, burned, and stuck the mimic with crossbow bolts until it laid silently on the floor.

Ellaria pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut.

“We need to work on fighting strategy,” she murmured to herself as she walked back towards the safe room.

*********

Ellaria broke from her trance in the damp stone room in pitch darkness. A rat scuttled away in the corner after noticing her stirring, tracing scraping noises along the floor as it ran. It squeezed itself into an almost impossibly small hole, then disappeared. She stood, lit the orb on her staff, and dimmed it, trying not to wake the others who were still asleep. Groaning to herself as she brushed off the cobwebs that clung to her cloak and boots, she took in her surroundings, counting the sleeping bodies in the room silently in her head. She uttered prayers to Seranrae, praying again for their protection and for her guidance. 

Lycaeus and Gwynnhwyfar were noticeably missing, probably exploring another section of the basement. Ellaria thought for a moment that she should go find them and make sure they weren’t in trouble, but Neri’s movement distracted her.

She was in a deep trance, but she moved gracefully, balancing on one foot, then the other, her long, limber arms extending up, then back, and forward. She moved purposefully, rhythmically, but there was elegance in her motions; a refinement that is prevalent in elves, but usually escapes humans. It almost seemed as if she was dancing while she hummed a low melody to herself. 

Finally, she came to the last position, sighed contentedly, and opened her eyes.

Ellaria had to blink to herself to break her stare.

“Ah, mon ami, you are awake! Perhaps we could explore another room togezer, no?” Neri quipped with a smile, looking the stunned cleric up and down.

Ellaria blinked again and glanced downward, remembering her manners and knowing she was caught staring. Neri didn’t seem to mind, however.

“Yes, of course. Which way should we go?” Ellaria replied.

“Well you are the one with ze light. You lead ze way.” Neri offered. Ellaria nodded and smirked, turning towards the hallway. 

They approached a set of rooms with small straw beds; a well sat in the middle of the room, emitting a stench that brought tears to their eyes. Ellaria covered her nose with her sleeve and Neri blinked and backed up slightly.

“Ugh… goddess… that stench. It’s horrible.” Ellaria coughed. 

Neri choked, “Let’s just see what’s in ‘ere and leave quickly.”

Ellaria hurried into one of the rooms. The stench dissipated slightly and she uncovered her nose; her eyes fell on the chest that sat in the corner of the room.

“Hmmmm,” Neri paused, gaze fell on the rusted lock holding the chest shut. She raised her staff and struck the lock to no avail.

“Perhaps I can help.” Ellaria wiggled her fingers, a sign that she was going to use magic. Neri stepped back and flame shot from Ellaria’s hand, but burned the chest instead. Black smoke filled the room and seeped into the open atrium and hallways.

Neri acted quickly and ran to the well, plunging the bucket into the vile water at the bottom. She reeled the bucket back up, and in one swift motion doused the chest; a repulsive stink filled the entire room. Both of the women coughed and covered their faces as Ellaria reached her hand in the chest and pulled out a shortsword, then hastily exited the room.

“Perhaps we should try opening ze remaining ones wizout fire, no?” Neri gasped, still choking on the stench that filled the room. Ellaria could only nod and cough; her lungs still filled with smoke and the smell of rotten, stagnant water.

The rest of the chests opened easily with a tap from Neri’s quarterstaff. Ellaria managed to open one more chest without setting it on fire. She grabbed a small pouch heavy with coins, feeling the weight of them in her hands. 

She paused.

The bag was made from human skin.

“Abominations…” Ellaria muttered as she quickly emptied the bag into her satchel and threw the bag on the floor, wiping her hand on her robe and wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Ready? We should probably share what we got with the rest of ze group.” Neri said, motioning towards the hallway they originally came from.

Ellaria stared at the bag on the floor. Whatever was in here, it had no regard for life. It was the only thing she was certain of in this house.


	6. Monster in the Basement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorg’hoth the decayer awakens!

“Lorg’hoth the decayer! We awaken thee!” The shadowy forms cried.

The mound shuffled, rustling and gurgling as it rippled; tendrils of green and black vines emerged from underneath it into the stagnant water and up the damp stone walls. A low rumbling noise filled the chamber as it raised it’s behemoth, amorphous form, undulating and shuffling the humanoid carcasses in it’s body like a churning sea. Seven heads with unseeing eyes raised out of it’s back, connected by rotting vines and refuse. Each head fixated on a different person, drooling black blood out of disjointed jaws and gnarled, mangled eye sockets. 

The stench of rotting corpses and refuse filled the room with such thickness Ellaria could almost taste it; it was unbearable. The creature shambled and rolled out of the alcove it was previously resting in, the seven heads snarling and gnashing their rotting teeth.

“I found the basement abomination!” Remmington said nervously, his eyes wide and crouching under the sheer mass of the creature’s form.

Ellaria gripped her staff with both hands and pointed the orb at the creature. “ _Lux Aeterna_!” she shouted as divine light flashed from her staff, striking one of the heads squarely in the jaw. The head shrieked, singed on the right side of it’s decrepit face from holy light. The creature’s body glowed white, and it’s giant maw finally revealed itself.

Neri rushed forward to fire a crossbow bolt into the side of the monstrosity. More black blood spurted out from the hole in it’s side.

Jagvier roared from behind them, “GROVEL YOU BEASTLY THING!” His sword and shield clanged together as white smoke enveloped the abomination. It growled and seemed to sink into itself, flattening against the ground and submerging itself partially under the water. The faces whimpered and cowered, collapsing into it’s shambling form.

Gowan dashed forward, swinging both of his swords down into the creature’s formless head. It roared with pain, but remained trembling on the ground in fear as Lycaeus dug his blades into it’s side, slicing down almost into the stone.

“Would you like to hear a joke, Lorg’hoth?” Remmington smirked. Purple light glowed from his eyes and hands and Lorg’hoth started to giggle. Different voices of laughter roared and echoed into the chamber, some as low as demonic, others a high shrieking and wailing; an unholy cacophony.

Gwynnhwyfar shot a firebolt into the monster, but the rotting skin deflected and snuffed the flame almost immediately.

“Fire does not hurt it!” Gwynnhwyfar gasped, her brow knotted in frustration.

Ellaria fired another bolt of divine energy into the beast’s lumbering form as Neri brought down her quarterstaff onto one of the heads, ricocheting it into the stone floor, then kicking it back down and smothering it under the water beneath her foot.

Jagvier sloshed through the stagnant water towards the creature recoiling at his approach, groveling at his feet. He raised his sword over his head, “You grovel at my feet and now you feel my steel!”

Ellaria felt the pull of divine magic in the air – a smite crashed down on the creature’s head in a thunderclap that roared and echoed through the stone room. The aggressive expressions on the faces coming out of the creature turned into rage as they all turned their attention to him. 

Lorg’hoth shot out a large tentacle towards Jagvier, striking him square in the breastplate. He flew back into the wall and crumpled onto the floor unconscious with a faint groan. Gwynnhwyfar rushed to his side, crouched next to him, and rested her hand on his brow. Once again, ancient magic flowed into the room as Jagvier gasped back to life, the petals of wildflowers flurrying around him. 

What the creature didn’t notice was that Lycaeus had silently crept around behind it. He vaulted off the ledge on the side of the room and sliced two of the heads completely off the creature in a single swipe with his daggers. It reeled back and howled in pain; the remaining heads desperately searched for the source. Thick, oily blood poured from where the heads once were, discoloring the water around it and spraying the walls with inky blackness.

Neri struck it again with her staff. The remaining heads turned and towered above her, hissing and spraying dark liquid as they screeched. Neri’s steely eyes opened wide with fear, and her consecutive punches struck only air.

Meanwhile, Jagvier shambled to a standing position and roared, “It’ll take more than that, abomination!” He raised his sword and plunged it deep within the heart of the creature, skewering it’s vitals. Lorg’hoth let out an unholy scream from it’s giant maw as it sank slowly into the pool of water and blood on the floor, and stilled with a final death rattle.

The chants of “One Must Die!” lowered and fell quiet into the thick blanket of darkness in the room. Silence filled the chamber again, save for the panting from the group. They glanced at each other, taking inventory of wounds, still shocked from beholding the creature. Ellaria nodded at Gwynnhwyfar, silently thanking her for rushing to Jagvier’s aid.


	7. Exodus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escaping from a house that wants you dead is no easy task.

Ellaria squinted her eyes at Lycaeus, disbelieving what he just said. Jagvier’s face echoed the same confusion; he glanced at her, then back to Lycaeus. 

The rogue’s emerald eyes glinted back at her and the paladin as he nodded, as if he could hear her thoughts. His hand still braced the trap door above him, which creaked slightly as he turned back around to peer out of the narrow opening. Ellaria huffed in frustration and acceptance.

Of _course_ there were spinning blades at the door entry. The cursed house already tried to kill them multiple times – zombies, shades, agitated spirits, and a shambling mound, but to no avail. Now it seemed hellbent on destroying them, as if it was daring them to escape with their lives.

“We need to make some decisions quickly.” Lycaeus growled.

They popped out of the breach in the floor, one by one, into the familiar trophy room. The stuffed wolves still stared with lifeless eyes, and for that Ellaria was thankful. Still, she kept her eye on them in case they too came to life and attacked. Black smoke filled the air like a thick blanket out of the fireplaces that sat in every room, and the windows were blocked out with black, smudged bricks.

“Can we even get through that?” Remmington asked to nobody in particular.

Ellaria studied the wall and knocked on it with a slender finger. It seemed hollow and breakable. She glanced back at Gowan and Jagvier, who, it seemed, had the same idea already.

Gowan pushed Jagvier hard with his foot, and Jagvier rushed towards the wall with a roar, his shield out in front of him. The delicate wallpaper-covered plaster and ornate wooden molding didn’t even provide the slightest resistance as he crashed through it, then flipped over the railing on the other side, head over heels, unable to stop his own inertia. Their efforts left a two-person-wide hole next to the door with the slicing blades.

The sound of slicing started again, however, as a new set of oscillating blades started to move into the hole Jagvier just made.

Gowan grabbed a stuffed wolf and rushed through the spinning blades. Ellaria gasped as she heard the unmistakable sound of slicing, but Gowan seemed unfazed. His wolf, however, was not so lucky and the blades sliced it in half. Decaying cotton, dust, and dried wood puffed out of the animal as the blades obliterated the material caught between them, sending a small white cloud backwards into the room.

Gwynnhwyfar, tripping over the remains of the stuffed wolf, rolled and wiggled her way through the opening as the blades slowly closed in on her.

Lycaeus and Neri flew through the blades effortlessly, deftly dodging each slice as if they were nothing. Their competition between each other grew to another level as they made rude gestures at each other as they flipped and vaulted through the obstacle.

“Showing off is a fool’s thing of glory.” Neri recited, a note of music in her voice, at Lycaeus. Lycaeus only smirked back at her, satisfied with himself.

Jagvier, meanwhile, shoved his sword into the doorway in an effort to stop the whirling blades, but instead, the blades caught his sword hilt, sending the weapon skittering and clanging across the trophy room floor. Ellaria grabbed the sword and slid it quickly back under the door back to a disgruntled Jagvier.

Ellaria studied the blades carefully. She noticed a pattern in their whirling and, when she grasped the repetition, leapt through the doorway unscathed. Black smoke enveloped the trophy room and started to pour into the main hall where they now stood.

Remmington tapped the lute slung across his back with his fingers in a soft beat, and purple smoke snaked through the air, enveloping him in it’s protection. He studied the blades as Ellaria instructed, found a gap, and jumped through. The sound of metal slashing through flesh sang in the main hall and Remmington stumbled forward, his calf bleeding profusely. He grumbled in pain, cursing the doorway in elvish.

“Good job, bard!” Jagvier exclaimed in a rare show of encouragement.

Two obstructed doors remained before their final escape from this nightmare. 

Neri and Lycaeus breezed through both of them without a single scratch, exchanging more rude gestures and they flipped and twisted through the blades gracefully. Ellaria studied the whirling blades again but hesitated at the last minute and one sliced through her thigh. She screamed with shock and staggered through the first entrance, hissing and cursing at the white-hot pain that coursed through her body. She lurched to a small corner, out of the way of the door, and propped herself up against the ornate wall.

Remmington whipped out the deed to the house and forged his own name as the heir of the house in an effort to force the house to stop it’s onslaught. Rose’s voice echoed in her head, “This house isn’t mine anymore. _It’s theirs_.”

“Rose said they don’t have control of the house, there’s nothing they can do to help.” She groaned, sitting in a pool of her own blood. 

Her vision started to blur, and figures sprang and flew past her vision. Something heavy and furry fell in her lap and she heard Gowan’s voice say something comforting, but distant. The obscured sunlight that poured through the final doorway got dimmer and dimmer. She lifted a heavy hand to her own chest.

“Goddess give me strength.” She barely whispered as her wounds closed partway. 

She rallied her strength one final time and heaved herself through the final doorway; the sharp, hot pain of a blade slicing through her ribs sent her gasping. There was a jagged burst of agony, a scream of muscle and sinew, and then everything went bright; her vision narrowed into a racing blackness as she collapsed just outside the doorway, and she swore she heard a distant “NO!” behind her. 

Pain faded into an icy numbness. She tumbled through the darkness in a freefall, into a chasm without a bottom, then suddenly, brilliant warmth filled her body. Cool hands on her cheeks. The earthy smell of oakmoss, cedar, and wildflowers. She slowly swam through the inky sea of death back into consciousness.

“Shh,” a low voice hushed as Ellaria struggled awake with a gasp. Those soft, almost chilly fingertips brushed over her temples as if they could pull the maelstrom that threatened to steal her into the abyss right out of her, but when she blinked open her eyes, she saw six faces staring back down at her. Wildflower petals swirled around her, gently falling back to the ground.

“Easy, now.” Gwynnhwyfar chided as Ellaria propped herself back up to a sitting position. Her head pounded tight with a dull ache that traveled down her spine into her gut where she was no longer split open. Standing onto stumbling feet now, she leaned on her staff and looked back at Gwynnhwyfar with a grateful nod and a prim “thank you.”

Remmington sat on the ground. Cuts bled through his armor and onto the cobblestone street. Ragged breaths heaved his chest and his eyes hooded as he clutched a particularly nasty gash on his bicep. Ellaria summoned the last of her remaining strength and sealed his wounds. Sunlight flowed into Remmington and he finally heaved a sigh of relief. 

The exhausted group observed breathlessly as the house groaned, almost crying like a child. A pointed _snap_ of a wooden beam within and the house started to dissolve, rumbling, and crumbling into dust. Only two structures remained, which simultaneously emerged out of the ground as the house seemed to melt into an Earth that swallowed it whole. Rose and Thorn’s crypt stood stark against the night sky, surrounded in a cloud of the wreckage of the house’s remains. Then, silence and a slight, chilled breeze.

“Zat was a weird house, no?” Neri murmured as a small smirk tugged at her lips. Remmington removed from his satchel what was left of the stuffed wolf Gowan pulled through the house – a dusty, moldy wolf ear and handed it to Gowan. A smile lit up Gowan’s face and he tucked it safely away into a pocket on his belt.

Lycaeus’s pointed ears seemed to twitch.

“We can’t stay here. We’re being watched.” He said. The exhaustion that hung over the septet made the rest of them groan in protest, but Ellaria knew he was right. The rogue’s keen senses hadn’t failed them yet – with the exception of grabbing that cursed orb, she corrected herself internally – so, she followed him into the darkness. The fog ahead parted, revealing a path towards a distant walled town.

One by one, the rest followed, and the mist crawled behind them.


	8. Storm, Wind, Shadow, Sun, Earth, Water, and Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes continue their journey into the Village of Baroiva. Ellaria contemplates her friends and the group meets a desperate brother.

“Something’s watching us. They could be scrying us as we speak. We need to move now.” Lycaeus declared. His voice was hushed and raspier than usual. Something _was_ watching them. Something with wings that fluttered through the heavy air, but then it was gone. Wolves howled in the distance. 

They trudged through the parting fog, leaving footprints in the mud with a thick _slosh_ as they pressed towards what looked like a town in the distance. A mist started to fall from the twilight sky. Why did it always have to be damp in this land? Her armor and robes both stuck to her and a chill hung in the air. Whatever was watching them padded closer towards them. Now, there was more of them. And they were closing in on them as they neared the town gates. 

The weary party’s feet finally found where slick, wet cobblestone started to emerge out of the muddy path and into a street.

A dark, empty street.

The town was eerily silent. There was no usual bustle, no warmth, no laughter, no light coming from any of these houses. Rotting rooftops, barren soil where small gardens once grew, and dilapidated, broken windows flanked them on the right and left. The most eerie, however, was the lack of sound – the deafening silence that filled the damp, thick air around them, save for one haunting noise. A woman sobbing could be heard in the distance beyond the mist. Her cries echoed and bounced on the stone edifices, a wail in the night that can only come from madness, Ellaria assumed. Ellaria’s heart pulled her towards the sound, but she paused; she knew by now not to trust that instinct. Everything had to be treated with suspicion at this point.

Neri and Gwynnhwyfar approached one of the dark houses and breathed on the glass, rubbing a small circle on the dirt-crusted window, and peering inside.

“Zis one looks empty. Perhaps we could rest ‘ere?” She asked, turning towards the group. Gwynnhwyfar jiggled the handle. “Locked.” She noted.

“Ey, rogue, can you give us a ‘and?” Neri called to Lycaeus.

“I’ll pick it, but no more complaining about my sticky fingers.” He retorted. Nobody had the strength to protest or even joke. Lycaeus picked the lock easily and the door opened with a click. Soaking wet and exhausted, they streamed in through the doorway into the dusty main room, closing the door behind them. Broken furniture lined the room, covered with moldy cloth, and a thick layer of dust caked everything. Gwynnhwyfar lit the fire with a wave of her hand and they sighed in relief at the warmth.

Something shifted in the air. The group glanced at one another in silence and Lycaeus cracked the door open. Ellaria peered over his head and he opened the door wider. A macabre parade of spirits lumbered slowly past them with unseeing eyes and unhearing ears. A warrior, clad in holy armor. A ranger in tattered leathers. A mage in worn, ripped robes. More and more specters appeared as the sunlight seemed to exit the land. 

Ellaria stepped back out the door. 

“Wait!” Ellaria surprised herself with the volume of her own voice. “Can you hear me?”

The specter with the long broadsword turned his head, but continued his slow march forward.

“Where are you going? Who are all these people?” Ellaria followed up.

“We’re going to the castle,” he answered. “He must die.”

“He?” Ellaria asked.

“You will understand.” He replied.

“C-can I help you?” Ellaria plead. No answer. Only silence. Ellaria glanced back at the bewildered group behind her and shrugged her shoulders.

Remmington cleared his throat. “Pardon me, sirs and ladies, could I have a moment of your attention? Where are you going and why?”

The ranger and her wolf stopped.

“We’re going to the castle.” She answered.

Remmington turned to the rest of them.

“They’re stuck in time. Trapped here.” He said. Ellaria hurried back into the house, huffing with frustration. 

“Whatever is in the castle is holding them here. If we go there, we might be able to free them.” She said.

Lycaeus kicked his feet up on a dusty chaise, putting his hands behind his head. 

“If you guys think I’m going up to that castle instead of taking a nice long nap right now, you got another thing coming.” He narrowed his eyes and raised his eyebrows.

“The rogue speaks truth.” Jagvier rumbled. “I’m sure the giant castle isn’t going to sprout legs and move. We can press forward in the morning.”

“I agree with the Lycaeus and Jagvier. We should rest first. We can decide what to do later.” Ellaria added.

Ellaria started to pull the door closed, but she paused one more time, beholding the ghostly procession in the streets. Behind the spectres, in the fog, two red eyes glowed back at her. The mist materialized into a wolf around the red eyes and it threw it’s head back into a piercing howl. She jumped and instinctively grabbed the hand next to her. She could hear Remmington gasp, whether at her touch or the ghostly wolf, she wasn’t certain. It didn’t approach, but stared back, then walked next to the parade of ghosts, almost shepherding them to the castle.

Ellaria shut the door hastily, moving a small table behind the door. Jagvier made a displeased snort that would make a bear proud.

Lycaeus and Ellaria looked at each other with a knowing nod - four-hour watch shifts for each of them.

Wordlessly, she sat in the dusty chair next to the window while the others found a space on the floor to claim as their own. Ellaria held her orb and prayed to her Goddess silently as the others closed their eyes. She prayed for the departed souls outside, for protection, for guidance. She paused.

 _Guidance._ She pondered.

They just escaped from a house that quite literally tried to eat them, plodded into an empty town, and now a ghostly parade with wolf guardians shambled outside. Something made her pointed ears twitch and pulled her attention outside. She gazed out the window to the right of the door – one single wolf sat outside, staring at the door, making no movement. The specter army outside seemed to fade in numbers, spirit by spirit, until at last, the wolf looked at her, and padded off into the mist.

What guidance could be gleaned from all this?

And now here they were. Huddled into the same cold, damp room, sleeping next to each other like it was second nature now. She contemplated her companions as her eyes fell on them one by one.

Jagvier, the storm and fury. The protector, caught somewhere between nobility and barbarism, but valorous nonetheless. The first one in front of the group, protecting even her, even after they shared clipped words and barbs. There was something about him that was almost gallant, a magnificence in his ruthlessness, like an oncoming storm that sweeps a ship to safe harbor before it strikes without mercy.

Neri, the duality of the wind – tranquility and ferocity. Graceful and wise, and there was a hint of playfulness there too, but always a stunning precision. Exacting in both intent and action. Ellaria grinned as she drew parallels between Neri and her own sister. Always wanting to help those who could not help themselves, caring for the weak and small, but striking enemies with a composed fierceness that would make even a battle priestess take heed.

And Lycaeus? If Jagvier was the protective older brother, then Lycaeus was the mischievous youngster. The looming shadow. There was a grief, a sorrow, behind his eyes that Ellaria could sense, however. Something he’d built up a strong wall around with no doors or windows. Something that could, possibly, be untangled, but something she would never outright ask about. Still, she could sense a kindred spirit, someone who perhaps hurt as much as she did, and understood not to pick at old wounds. She called him “lethallin”; the elvish word meant “friend”, but she hoped he found the double meaning of “brother” to be as heartening as she did. 

She mused at her own powers. Sunfire and light. Always toeing the line between the fire that warms and the fire that destroys. Ellaria juggled a few magical fire orbs in her hand, a habit she picked up when she was thinking. She extinguished them when she realized they were shedding too much light into the room and a few of her compatriots started to rouse.

The druid stirred, plucking Ellaria out of her reflection, but Gwynnhwyfar’s eyes stayed shut. Gwynnhwyfar, the ancient forest, the eternal Earth. Ellaria remembered what it felt like for the magic of the Old Ones to pull her back from death. There was an elegance to her magic, but something so uninhibited, so wild and feral, could be called upon if needed. Like the riot of color in a wildflower grove, a few short steps from a yawning chasm created by an earthquake.

Gowan, the wild river, rushing where it pleases, taking everything in it’s path with it. Though he didn’t seem to say much, she had to admire his conviction and confidence. He never seemed fazed, never faltered, even when taking blows. There was a warm kindness in there, too, even if it wasn’t explicit. She wondered if he was a fighter in a gladiatorial ring, someone who competed for the adoration of the crowd? _No_ , she dismissed the thought. Perhaps a soldier, someone who spent his whole life following orders; always obedient, but, forever sensing that something greater was meant for him. Something beyond the walls of the dam confining him.

And Remmington. 

“Oh, Remmington,” she sighed quietly as traces of a smile pulled at her lips. 

_No. No, no, no, no._ She thumped her head against the wall behind her with each syllable. She couldn’t afford distractions, especially from a silver-tongued bard. She pondered the gaggles of women who threw themselves at his feet while he sang them honeyed songs, words that painted the air around them with starry nights and blushes in the moonlight. Of sweet kisses and whispered promises. How many waited for him? He stirred and smiled in his sleep as if he heard her thoughts. She pictured his dreams… some pale, graceful, soft-handed, quiet woman surely lingered in his thoughts. She looked down at her own calloused hands and frowned – battle-worn, broken, and hardened, a reflection of her own spirit.

Perhaps anyone could be trapped in this plane of existence with her, but here they were. Storm and wind and shadow and sun and earth and water and song.

Lycaeus was already awake, but watching her from his corner, his eyes glowing in the firelight. She took in a small breath when she noticed him and blinked. She nodded her head in a “come here” motion, pointing her eyes towards the window. Silently, he found his feet and crept over to the window. He stood next to her, scanning the street outside.

“They’re gone.” She whispered. “They disappeared one by one but… one of the wolves stopped and stared at the door for at least a few hours. It finally left with the last apparition towards the castle.” Lycaeus studied the empty road, looking for any sign of movement, but silence replaced the space where the spirits once were. He sighed and nodded at her, and she took it as her sign to close her own eyes. She sat in the corner where Lycaeus previously was, seeing it was already cleared of dust and cobwebs.

Ellaria unlatched the new staff from her back. She could feel the staff’s pull of magic towards her own soul. Something – or someone – had blessed this weapon with divine power. It felt light in her hands; the glass glinted in the moonlight, but the staff felt solid, strong as oak. When she held it, she even felt stronger, sturdier.

“I suppose I’ll have to attune myself to this one.” She muttered quietly to herself. She unlatched her Sunstriker staff from her back and laid both staves in her lap, over her crossed legs. The orb glowed gently as she closed her eyes and concentrated.

*********

Ellaria woke with a sputter. Her heart throbbed with an ache that she hadn’t felt in years, and she felt the hole in her soul grow wider. She looked down at the staves. The orb glowed and glinted soothingly in the dark room. She gently removed it, holding it’s warmth in her hands. As she brought it towards the top of the new staff, it pulled and flew from her hand into the small, ornate cage.

Her old staff felt lighter than it ever did. She held it close to her heart for a moment.

“I forgive you,” she said as she tossed it into the fire. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with her sleeve.

*********

The next morning was just as dreary as the previous one. Filtered sunlight gently lit the room where they all slept. One by one, they stood and stretched, popping joints as they twisted and rubbed spots where their bones rested on wooden floors.

Ellaria swore to herself she wouldn’t take a bed for granted ever again.

They stepped outside into the chilled air, glancing around at their surroundings, and, thankful that the door didn’t try to kill them this time. They strolled towards the middle of the town.

“Bard!” Jagvier declared as he started walking. “Use your velvety words to find us some ale and a place where we can purchase some wares.”

“I will try to do so, paladin.” Remmington answered. “Maybe we could try to get you a woman as well while we’re asking for uncertain things?”

“One needs no women when one has ale.” Jagvier retorted, folding his arms in front of him with a one-sided smirk.

They came to a large intersection after a few minutes; standing prominently were two distinct large buildings with smoke pouring out of the chimneys. Light glowed from the windows, scattering the morning fog that had settled in the town. Finally, a sign of life. 

A sign creaking in the breeze read:

The Blood and

the Vine Tavern

Remmington pushed his shoulder into the heavy door and held it open with a gentlemanly flourish, gesturing the rest of them to enter. A large fire roared in the main hearth, lighting up the entire building, but the tavern was mostly empty except for a few people. The bartender only slightly nodded towards them in greeting.

Three women whispered and giggled at each other as they looked the group up and down, and a single young man sat in the back with a glass of wine. He seemed fidgety, but sat up straighter with an excited surprise when the seven of them wandered in the door.

Remmington swaggered over to the group of women and started chatting them up.

Meanwhile, Ellaria approached the barkeeper.

“My good man,” she began.

The barkeeper slowly looked up at her with eyes that had no life in them.

“Erm, excuse me, sir,” Ellaria backpedaled. “Might I please have a pot of hot water and three cups?”

The dour-faced man nodded, and wordlessly boiled water for her, pouring it into a black kettle, then setting it on a tray with three cups.

“That will be two silver, please.” He finally said in monotone.

“Erm… of course. Thank you. Keep the extra.” Ellaria replied as she placed three silver on the bar.

Unnerved, Ellaria stole away, tray in hand, to a table where Gwynnhwyfar and Neri sat. She pulled a cloth satchel from her bag and untied the delicate but worn strings at the top. She filled all three cups and handed two of them to the two other women. The heady scent of cherries and wildflowers filled the air.

“Cheers,” she said with a smile, “my sister used to make this for me when we were younger. Helps calm the nerves. I figured we’d need it after that dreadful house.”

Gwynnhwyfar sniffed the tea and took a sip. Her face lit up with joy as she took a second, then a third, sighing contentedly in her chair.

Neri seemed pleased as well. “Oh, a special tea, eh? Merci!”

Jagvier, meanwhile, plopped down with an entire pitcher of wine at the table on a chair that, for him, was much too small. He tipped the pitcher back and gulped audibly, wine streaming down his face and catching in his beard. Ellaria and Neri made a disgusted noise, but Gwynnhwyfar seemed unfazed.

Remmington, meanwhile, had made his way over to the single man who was shuffling over anxiously in his chair. Neri made a beeline for him as well; Ellaria decided to take a moment to herself instead and sip her tea. She let out a contented sigh.

Gwynnhwyfar beamed, sipping the steaming tea and holding the small cup in both hands. Ellaria huffed happily at her as motion out of the corner of her eye broke her relaxation. Neri was waving for her to come over.

She rose, pushed her chair in, and walked over to the table where they all sat. The table was laden with food and more pitchers of wine, roast, potatoes, and some kind of greens. Jagvier sniffed the air and followed his nose from across the room. His eyes lit up at the sight of food and he started to scarf it down.

“Ismark,” the nervous young man held his hand out. Ellaria tentatively took it and he shook her hand enthusiastically.

“What’s all this, then?” Ellaria asked airily.

“Won’t you sit, Ellaria?” Remmington replied.

“Yes! Yes! Please! Sit” Ismark gestured at the chair next to her. He got up frantically and pulled it out graciously, pushing it back in as she sat down. He returned to his seat and started explaining further.

“My… my sister, Irina, well, my adopted sister that is, a man keeps trying to take her from us. I need help, I can’t protect her on my own. My father’s the mayor, but he can’t protect her. Not from… not from Count Von Zarovich. The man in the castle up on the hill. Many of the women in the town have gone missing, but he seems to be obsessed with my sister because she resists him.”

Jagvier, Remmington, Neri, and Ellaria looked at each other.

“How can we help?” Remmington offered. Jagvier belched and wiped his mouth as Ellaria rolled her eyes. Gwynnhwyfar brought the kettle over, still grinning, and refreshed Ellaria and Neri’s cups, then hers before taking another happy sip. Ellaria realized Gowan was missing just as he ran through the door, huffing and puffing.

Did he… just go for a jog? Ellaria shook her head and waved him over, refocusing on Ismark.

“Oh! There’s more of you! This is fantastic! If you could take her to the village down the road. To Valakai. She’ll be safe there. They are well defended and can help her.” Ismark explained. “I need you to escort her there. Please. This is the last chance I have to keep my sister safe. Please! I’ll pay you handsomely.”

At the sound of someone talking about coin, Lycaeus materialized behind her, seemingly out of thin air, broody and dour as ever. Ellaria did a double take and he gazed back down at her, then to Ismark.

Ellaria folded her arms and raised her eyebrows, glancing at the faces surrounding her. They all searched for the same – a decision on what to do, but Ellaria knew exactly what they were dealing with. A vampire.

“She can fend for herself; she won’t be a burden, I swear it.” Ismark added quickly, noticing Ellaria’s contemplation.

A heavy silence hung between the group. 

“I’ll… I’ll get a new round of drinks for the rest of you! You can discuss what you want to do.” Ismark scuttled away towards the bar.

“I don’t know about all of you,” Jagvier rumbled, “But we have our reasons for being here. If you choose to help this man, I will accompany you to the town gate, but no further. My reasons for being here are my own. I cannot leave Barovia until I find what I seek.”

“I have other business as well.” Lycaeus growled impatiently.

“Perhaps we will find what you seek on the way to the new village.” Ellaria replied, remembering the map and it’s expanse. “There is much more of this land we have to cover.”

“I hope for both our sakes you are right, cleric.” Jagvier agreed. Lycaeus only grumbled a minor agreement.

“He also mentioned the crying we heard last night is coming from a woman who lives down the street. Perhaps she will have more information.” Remmington offered.

“Hmmm. The bard has a point.” Jagvier said.

Ellaria rose and walked towards the paladin, offering her arm. “If you help us in this mission, whatever your task is, you will have my powers beside you as well.” Jagvier’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“I will stay with you as long as I can.” He replied. He took her arm at the elbow, and she, his. She smiled at the mountain of a man, and he gave her one back. Maybe they could be friends after all?

Gwynnhwyfar quipped, “If he is stealing the women away from this village, we need to get his sister out of here. Especially since he seems so interested in her.”

They all nodded in agreement.

Ismark wobbled back to the table with more food and pitchers of wine. The group picked through the food hastily – it had been days without a hot meal for Ellaria and she was grateful for the warmth it provided.

Ellaria clapped her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll take care of your sister. Can you bring her to us so we can escort her?”

Ismark was overjoyed, but then shook his head. “Oh thank you, thank you! But… It’s too dangerous for her to leave the house with just her and me. Meet me at my father’s mansion on the hill when you’re ready.”

Neri nodded and smiled at him reassuringly “We ‘ave a few things to take care of first, but we’ll be back for ‘er.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you again. Take your time. I’ll be here.” Ismark sat back down at his table and the group spirited out the door.


	9. Wounded Pride and Dignity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellaria makes some questionable choices and the rest of the group follows suit.

The heavy oak sign swung slightly in the chilled breeze outside a large wooden door:

**Bildrath’s**

**Mercantile**

Jagvier barged in and the door pivoted open quickly like it was made of straw. The rest of the group stepped in out of the mist, brushing the pearled drops of water off their armor and clothes. The shop was dark and the room smelled damp. A lone candle lit the counter, but a roaring fire brightened the room from the hearth. Fine furniture adorned the room and armor and weapons lay in intricate display cases lined with gold and silver. Lycaeus’s eyes were as wide as tea saucers as he licked his lips hungrily, but immediately reeled himself in to avoid arousing suspicion.

The shopkeeper stood behind the counter, whom Ellaria could only assume was Bildrath himself – a spindly, tall man with sharp features grinned at them, his scraggly black beard pulling with his lips across his face and crinkling his beady dark eyes. His clothes were finer than what they had seen than the few people around the town and he made no secret of showing his wealth. Gold rings adorned all of his fingers with bright glittering gems of every color, matching the gold thread that detailed his red velvet cape.

“How are you all doin’? Looking to buy some stuff, are ya?” Bildrath smirked. He eyed Neri, Ellaria, and Gwynnhwyfar with a glint in his eye, leaning an elbow on the counter. “How can I help you lovely dolls today?”

“Yes please!” Gwynnhwyfar chirped, oblivious to the man’s slimy nature. “I need some health potions please! How many do you have?” She threw the small coin sack on the counter that Ellaria had given her previously.

Bildrath rose back up to a standing position.

“Sorry, love, don’t have any of those. Got plenty of weapons and armor, though. All these lovely items are left from the dead.” Bildrath replied.

Ellaria suddenly realized that Lycaeus was no longer behind her and his presence was replaced by Remmington’s.

“Oh. That’s… morbid…” Gwynnhwyfar said as she scooped the coins of of the counter and tossed them back to Ellaria. “Unhelpful!” Gwynnhwyfar chastised Bildrath, but he didn’t seem to care.

Ellaria reached into her satchel and pulled out a the shortsword she found earlier. She tossed it on the counter.

“What’ll ya give me for this?” She asked.

Bildrath smiled a creepy smile. “I’ll give ya… 75 gold pieces for it.”

Ellaria winced, but she didn’t feel like haggling. Besides, he was probably the only shopkeeper for miles and he knew it.

“Deal.” She sighed.

Lycaeus re-materialized behind Ellaria. “How about a crossbow?” Lycaeus asked.

“Got plenty of those. They’ll cost a pretty piece of gold, but I’m willing to sell.” Bildrath answered. Lycaeus frowned and wandered around the room, inspecting the wares in the cases.

Neri placed three pieces of beautiful moss agate on the counter. “How about these?” Neri asked.

“Ah, those are pretty. I’ll give you seven gold each” Bildrath replied.

“Err… I don’t think zis is a fair price…” Neri frowned.

Jagvier, on the other hand, was leaning up against a wall, his giant arms crossed against his chest. And Ellaria could feel the heat rising off his brow - he was simmering with anger. Finally, he slammed his large hand on the counter.

“Enough! You give my friends a fair price! Or else I’m going to send them outside and we’re going to have a talk.” Jagvier growled threateningly.

Ellaria paused and blinked at him. Did he refer to us as his “friends”? She smiled faintly. Maybe he wasn’t such a stone-heart after all.

Bildrath, however, never lost his smirk. “That’s cute, man. Think you can just come into my place and tell me what to do? Let me introduce you to MY friend.” He turned towards the door opening behind him. “PERIWUMPLE!” He shouted.

A reply in the form of a chair scraping across the floor was the reply. Someone stood and thumped it’s way towards the door and squeezed through. A giant of a man now stood before them, dwarfing even Jagvier. His messy light brown hair obviously hadn’t been combed through in a long time and his large face overshadowed his small blue eyes in his boyish face. He smiled a three-toothed smile at his boss, and then at the group.

“Whoa. Big.” Gwynnhwyfar remarked with wide eyes.

Neri was unimpressed. “Pfff. We could fuck him up, no?” Jagvier smirked at the challenge standing in front of him and Neri reached for her staff on her back.

Ellaria inserted herself between Periwumple and Jagvier.

“Now now, there’s no need for violence. This is unnecessary. Everyone _please_ calm down. Let’s talk about this.” She gave Jagvier a chastising look.

“FINE!” He roared and stormed outside. “You have fun with jackoff and jackoff junior. I’m going for another pitcher of wine.” He slammed the door behind him.

Neri huffed. “I think I am done ‘ere. I’d like to go find this child and Mary and see if they need help.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Ellaria replied. She rolled her eyes to herself. “Can’t believe I’m about to do this.”

She sauntered up to the counter and softened her expression, resting her delicate chin on her hand. Her other hand waved at Neri and Gwynnhwyfar behind her to come back. “I do… apologize for my friend’s behavior.” She purred. “Surely you can cut us a slightly better deal?” Ellaria fluttered her eyelashes and smiled a soft, seductive smile.

Bildrath hummed. Ellaria could smell his terrible breath as he came in close, but she held her pleasant expression.

“You’re real cute there, lass. What say we go next door and have a drink?” Bildrath drew in closer.

“How about a better price for my friend here first, hmmm?” Ellaria replied.

“I can’t do better than nine gold a piece.” Bildrath slid the gold across the counter to Neri, which she pocketed quickly. 

Remmington inserted himself next to Ellaria and, exuding confidence, said “Perhaps I can tempt you with this deed to the house.” He said, voice sweet and warm, like liquid honey. Lycaeus appeared behind both Periwumple and Bildrath, nodding his head in approval and licking his lips. Ellaria knew he was about to rob this sap blind.

“I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree, mate.” Bildrath finally tore his gaze from Ellaria. Periwumple grinned at Remmington. “Hehe, Hi…” Periwumple slobbered.

Remmington’s charming expression dropped and all color drained from his face as he stepped back.

Ellaria, knowing that the transaction was done, and both disgusted and satisfied with herself, tried once again to diffuse the situation.

“Call your pet off, won’t you?” Ellaria said softly, tickling her finger under Bildrath’s oily chin.

“He’s not a smart one. I can’t tell him to do anything” Bildrath leaned in.

“We have a few errands to run, but I’ll be back for you, my dear.” Ellaria said hastily as she backed out the door behind her friends, winking at the shopkeeper. 

Bildrath, surprised, waved her goodbye with the expression of an abandoned puppy, and she slipped out the door without giving him another look. Remmington, however, picked a small scrap of paper off of the floor, stuffing it into his shirt sleeve.

“’Ey! What’s that you got there?” Bildrath finally returned to his shopkeeper demeanor. 

“Oh, looks like a copper piece on the floor.” Remmington lied, deftly switching the scrap of paper with a copper piece he pulled out of his pocket.

“Give it here, that’s mine. You found it on my floor!” Bildrath bellowed.

“Very well, it’s yours!” Remmington threw his hands up in surrender, a smirk on his face. He strode out the door after Ellaria.

“UGH!” She finally groaned, shuddered, and gave Jagvier a sharp look. Jagvier glowered back at her wordlessly. Lycaeus slipped out of a side window from the shop silently with a disappointed expression on his face.

Remmington nodded his head towards the street, indicating they should walk in that direction; the group obliged. As they did, Bildrath appeared in the window, beady eyes narrowed and following the group with his gaze until they were out of sight.

Lycaeus smirked. “Hey Ellaria. Did you convince him to come out for drinks?”

“Ugh, please, I don’t want to speak on it any longer.” Ellaria shuddered.

Jagvier roared a hearty laugh.

“Maybe you should take him up to your room.” Lycaeus prodded her arm; his smirk melted into a wicked grin.

Ellaria punched Lycaeus in the arm and glowered at him.

“All I’m saying is maybe if you get him up in your room, I could pull a heist on that place” Lycaeus continued.

“I think zese are childish games, no? We need to go find zis crying woman. Zere is a child in danger.” Neri rescued a grateful Ellaria from further embarrassment.

“I found the house where the crying was coming from” Gowan added.

“I agree with the thief, we should pilfer the shop and all his gold” Jagvier brought the conversation back to it’s original subject.

Ellaria huffed in frustration. “If you want to go rob the shop, then _you_ go seduce him. I’m going with Neri.” She said airily with a wave of her hand.

“I seduce with steel!” Jagvier remarked.

“That explains your lack of charm.” Ellaria replied, wearily.

Remmington whipped out the scrap paper he pilfered from the shop. It was addressed to a person named Djiordi and seemed to be a list of items Bildrath is requesting to sell in his shop:

**Leather**

**Potions**

**Vials**

**Poisons**

**Herbs**

The group peered at the list and shrugged at eachother at it’s plainness and continued down the cobblestone street.

Gowan led the group towards the house he found earlier. The mournful sobs grew louder as they approached the front door. The house was fallen into disrepair and the windows were boarded shut from the inside, walling off the outside and the broken glass panes. Ivy climbed up the side of the house, intertwining with the rusted iron and rotting wood. Moss spotted the roof, but smoke still wafted from the decaying chimney.

“I suppose we should knock?” Remmington asked as he did so.

The crying continued without an answer.

Gowan, however, had other plans. He measured steps back, crouched down like an animal, and charged, at the boarded window, diving shoulder-first into it. The boards cracked, opening a small hole, but not large enough for anyone to fit through. 

The crying paused momentarily, then began to grow in volume as footsteps padded from the upper level to the lower level of the house.

Jagvier put his shield out in front of him and rammed his shoulder into the door as Gowan and Neri hacked at the remaining boards in the window.

Ellaria, Lycaeus, Gwynnhwyfar, and Remmington looked on with crossed arms and unamused expressions on their faces, but didn’t stop anyone as they barged, hacked, and chipped at the house.

The crying stopped. A weak, sorrowful voice came from the door.

“Leave me alone! Go away!” the voice said. The boards that fell inside were placed back onto the window and the sound of hammering echoed down the street.

“Madame, you must excuse my compatriot’s… unrefinement. We merely wish to help you find your lost daughter.” Remmington said softly.

“We only wish to help you, my dear, if possible.” Ellaria added.

“Why are you trying to break into my house?! I do not want company!” The voice demanded as the hammering continued.

“I’m terribly sorry, we should not have done that. We thought you might be in danger.” Ellaria replied.

“We offer our services to help you find your daughter.” Remmington offered.

The hammering continued without any hesitation.

“… You cannot help me. She will return. I know it.” The voice replied as she finished hammering. The sobbing started again and carried it’s way back up to the second floor.

“What. Are. You. Doing. What are you doing to Mary? Leave her alone! She is most devastated with the loss of her daughter!” A voice scolded behind them. Ismark had wandered down the street towards them, no doubt following the commotion they were causing.

“We were only trying to help.” Jagvier answered.

“By breaking into her house?” Ismark asked incredulously. “If someone knocked on your door and you didn’t answer, would you appreciate them trying to break in?? No! Think about it… strong… man….” Ismark trailed off as he watched Jagvier’s expression get darker and more menacing. 

“Where did her daughter go?” Remmington asked.

Ismark sighed in exasperation. “She ran away. We haven’t seen her in weeks. That little girl was shut in her entire life and just wanted a taste of freedom. My guess is she wanted to find an adventure, but she ran into someone with ill intentions. Now if you’ll follow me, let’s leave this poor woman alone and go to my father’s house.”

Jagvier reached into his satchel and placed a sack of food rations at her door.

“Mary!” Jagvier bellowed. “I’ve left a few days of food for you. We are going to find Strahd. And if I find your daughter, I promise to return her to you. My apologies for the damage to the house. We won’t return unless you want us to.”

The crying stopped for a silent moment without a coherent response, then continued again, echoing down the street as the group followed Ismark to the Mayor’s residence.


	10. The Mayor's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group finally meets Ireena, and Lycaeus starts hatching a plan.

Ismark knocked three times on the door in what seemed like specific locations on the sturdy oak slab. Rusted iron designs adorned the door, curling and weaving together – whether they were symbols of protection or mere decoration, Ellaria couldn’t determine. 

The outside of the house was unmistakably stone, but the years and lack of upkeep had not been kind to it. Black animal claw marks marred the stone walls and boards covered the shattered windows. Brown weeds spiraled out of what once were surely garden beds, now trampled with wolf tracks and large humanoid footprints. The dingy stone towered above them to a roof that was starting to lose it’s shingles; the wood trim, once no doubt a stunning rosewood now infested with termites and crumbling. The wrought iron gate was rusted beyond repair, seeming to disintegrate with each passing rainstorm, which, probably, was often.

Ismark brushed a light blonde lock of hair behind his ear and turned his head, smiling a little nervously at the group. Ellaria glanced sideways with arched eyebrows at Lycaeus, who mirrored her expression with a small shrug.

“Ireena! It is I and I have returned with friends!” Ismark said loudly.

A thin metal plate in the door at eye level slid open with a metallic _shink_ and two ice blue eyes peered through the opening. They blinked once and set to work, unlocking the door with _clicks_ and _clacks_ , then a grunt as a large wooden door bar slid out of place, finally swinging the door open with a loud creak. Rain started to pour outside and blow sideways as a storm rolled in unexpectedly.

The woman said nothing, but gestured the group inside. Her auburn hair tumbled down her shoulders, highlighted by her pale pink skin and fine cloak. 

“The gods were gracious with you,” Ellaria thought to herself, but parted her lips slightly in shock when she saw the two healed-over bite marks on her otherwise perfect neck.

Ismark strode in, dodging the rain as it just started to come down on his head. The rest of the group stood in awkward silence, exchanging confused looks.

“Are… you going to invite us in?” Ellaria asked.

“No.” Ireena said stoically.

Gowan and Jagvier walked in and Ireena didn’t seem offended, so the remaining group followed.

“You must forgive me, we cannot invite strangers inside for fear they are vampires. Vampires can only enter a home if they are invited.” Ireena explained. The group didn’t seem fazed by her explanation; they all had already seen stranger things.

Ellaria shook off the rainwater that had already soaked through her robes while the others did the same for their armor and clothing. Gwynnhwyfar was the only one who didn’t seem bothered by the rain, and just stood there dripping a pool of water onto the floor.

The interior of the house was caked in dust and dilapidated wallpaper. Ellaria tried to envision what it looked like in it's prime - polished mahogany tables and fine silk tablecloths, bear skin rugs by the fire and lounging furniture so soft you would fall asleep the moment your head laid on them. Fine paintings adorning the walls, ladies in frilly dresses bustling about the house, setting the table for expected company with fine china and silver. A warm house with good people who cared for their townsfolk.

Ireena pulled Ellaria out of her fanciful vision. “Father is dead. He passed early this morning.” She said without emotion. A dark, sad expression clouded Ismark’s face.

“It was only a matter of time, sister.” He said softly. “All the more reason why we need to get you out of here. I brought friends with me to help guide you on your journey to the next town. You’ll be safer there.”

By Ireena’s reaction, it was evident that this was a recurring conversation.

“I am ready, brother.” Ireena replied. “But… Father. We have to bury him first.”

“I understand. Of course. Did you make progress on his coffin?” Ismark asked.

“Barely. I was feeding him soup and keeping the fire stoked while working on it at the same time. I hardly made any progress on anything.” Ireena answered.

“Ireena,” Ellaria interrupted. “Your brother spoke that you were in great danger here. We need to move you to safety as quickly as possible so you are out of Strahd’s reach.”

Ireena shook her head. “No, I will not leave until my father is buried. We have a family plot at the town abbey. This man took both of us in as foundling babes. It's the least I can do for him.” 

Ellaria sighed heavily. “I understand. Is there a preference he had for a service?”

“We usually bury our dead at dawn, so undeath cannot come to them immediately after.” Ireena answered.

“We can help you. It will take a shorter amount of time if all of us help construct the coffin.” Remmington interjected. Neri, Gowan, and Ismark nodded.

“Then it’s settled. We bury your father at dawn at the abbey.” Ellaria stated.

“What of these beastly prints outside your home?” Jagvier growled. “We should set traps for the beast so that they plague you no longer.”

“They come every night, but they aren’t able to enter. If you set traps for them, I’m not sure you’ll catch anything, but you are welcome to try.” Ireena explained.

***

The hammering could be heard from the adjacent room and, Ellaria supposed, from outside as well. Gowan, Remmington, Neri, and Ismark toiled on Ismark and Ireena’s father’s coffin while Jagvier readied his traps should the beasts that wandered outside decide to materialize from the mist.

Ireena stared blankly out the window, deep in thought.

Ellaria walked slowly behind her, staff clacking softly on the wooden floor.

“I am deeply sorry for your loss, Ireena.” Ellaria broke the silence between them.

Ireena turned around and sighed.

“It was to be expected. He was so sick and frail from trying to protect me. It consumed him, and in the end… I suppose it destroyed him.” Ireena said softly.

A familiar pain pulled at Ellaria’s heart.

“I know how difficult it is to lose a parent. I lost mine when I was… I was very young.” Ellaria trailed off. “If you like, I can offer a prayer for your father to the Everlight, if that would comfort you and your brother.”

Ireena smiled for the first time Ellaria had seen. “That would be very kind of you, thank you. If you would please reserve your prayer for the service at dawn. I think it would be quite fitting.”

Ellaria smiled warmly and nodded her head.

“All done!” Gowan declared from the other room. Ellaria and Ireena strode over to inspect their work. Ismark put his fists on his hips and nodded approvingly, sweat curling the hair on his brow. The coffin was made from what looked like scrap lumber, possibly taken from floorboards elsewhere in the house, but it would fulfil it’s purpose. Ireena and Ismark reverently moved their father from the adjacent bed into the coffin and closed the lid, brushing his eyes closed one final time. 

Jagvier lumbered out the door with his traps in hand, creaking the heavy door open once again.

Gwynnhwyfar had turned her attention to a resident houseplant – a carefully carved bonsai tree. She brushed it lovingly with her delicate hand, and cooed at it like it was a small baby. 

Ellaria then realized that Lycaeus had materialized behind her again. She jumped a little.

“Could you _please_ stop doing that? It’s unnerving!” Ellaria chided.

Lycaeus didn’t even respond to her chastisement, but instead a wicked grin spread across his face and he narrowed his green eyes. “How would you like to help me on a heist?”


	11. The Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jagvier, Lycaeus, and Ellaria pay Bildreth a visit, but things don't go as planned.

Ellaria glowered at Lycaeus incredulously while he sighed in exasperation, but still smiled.

“Look, all I’m asking you to do is take the slimy greaseball out for the drink that you originally promised him.” Lycaeus plead.

“I. Will. Not.” Ellaria retorted, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Oh come on, don’t you want to see his face the next morning when he realizes that we’ve robbed him?” Lycaeus argued.

Ellaria tried to hide the smirk that crept across her face and she averted her eyes from Lycaeus’s.

“Exactly as I thought, come on.” Lycaeus whipped back around towards the door.

“Wha-… ugh!” Ellaria could only manage to sputter as she mindlessly followed.

Ireena appeared in front of the door. 

“It’s past sunset. This is most unwise, and I’m not keen on letting my newly hired protection waltz into the devil’s jaws for a sack of coins.” She stated firmly.

“We’ll be just fine, I have the cleric with me!” Lycaeus reasoned and he motioned towards Ellaria. Ellaria opened her mouth to disagree, but Jagvier plowed through the door behind Ireena, almost knocking her to the ground.

“By Tyr, it’s really coming down out there!” He bellowed, chortling to himself. “Traps are set, let’s see what we can catch.”

“Ah, perfect timing, friend. Ellaria and I were about to go teach that smarmy merchant a lesson. Care to join us?” Lycaeus rasped.

“Ha! Fantastic idea!” Jagvier rumbled and leaned in closer with a smirk. “What’s the plan?”

“Our lovely priestess is going to draw out Bildreath so I can get into the shop and steal all his merchandise. You could help her just in case that bumbling oaf is there too.” Lycaeus answered.

Jagvier slammed his meaty hand on the table next to the door. “I’m in!”

Ellaria looked at both of them sideways and sighed in resignation.

“I suppose I’ll go to make sure the both of you don’t kill yourselves.” She said airily.

Ireena finally picked herself up off the floor and interjected. “I still say this is unwise, but if you must,” She eyed Jagvier up and down, “I suppose I can’t stop you. Knock three times on each of the windows next to the doorway once you return to signal to us that it is indeed you and not one of Strahd’s tricks.”

Jagvier waved his hand. “Of course, of course! What are we waiting for?”

“For some sense to enter both of your heads, but I suppose we’re past that point.” Ellaria said as she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head.

Neri, Gowan, Remmington, and Gwynnhwyfar had already settled in for bed. “No use in waking them now.” She thought as she pushed the heavy door open with a groan and journeyed off into the rain, Lycaeus and Jagvier right behind her.

*****

The trio reached the midpoint of the road between the mansion and the mercantile hastily as the rain seemed to let off into a heavy mist. Lycaeus, already dressed out of his usual leathers and in all black cloth nodded to Jagvier and Ellaria as they continued towards the front door.

“I’ll wait in the tavern and keep an eye on you and him when you bring him in. If that big oaf needs some convincing, I’ll think of something for that too.” Jagvier offered.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Mumbled Ellaria as she faced the front door. She could hear Jagvier stomp off towards the tavern and push his way through the door. Sighing and putting on her best sugar-sweet-voice, she knocked on the door.

“Bildreth! It’s Ellaria. I’m here to take you out for that drink I offered you earlier!” Ellaria called.

Silence.

She waited. She took a deep breath.

“I don’t like this.” She thought to herself.

She paced underneath the porch roof as the mist started to get thicker, clouding the roads outside. She thought briefly about leaving when Jagvier appeared outside the tavern door across the street. He gestured at her and she shrugged at him in silence.

He paused and walked further into the street.

“BILDRETH! YOU GREASY SLIMEBALL! GET OUT HERE!” Jagvier roared.

“What are you doing?!” Ellaria hissed angrily.

“Pretending I’m drunk! Just play along!” Jagvier whispered back.

“You’re going to attract – “ Ellaria started, but before she could finish, Jagvier was at the side door, banging on it loudly.

“WHERE ARE YOU, BILDRETH! YOU PROMISED MY LADY FRIEND A DRINK! COME OUT HERE AND FIGHT FOR YOUR HONOR!” Jagvier continued to shout as he rapped on the door.

A shutter opened from the second story from across the street and a small, frail man in sleeping clothes appeared at the window.

“Oi! We know he’s an asshole! No need to shout it all over town, we’re trying to sleep over here!” He said. Ellaria winced and tried to wave at him half-heartedly with one hand, attempting to cover her face and identity with the other. The man frowned at her and murmured a loud "harumph" as he slammed the window and shutters closed.

“I’M GOING TO SIT HERE UNTIL YOU COME OUT!” Jagvier slurred and winked at her.

“Jagvier, stop it! You’re going to alert the whole town!” Ellaria whispered loudly. “We don’t know what else is out –“ She paused.

The sound of metal scraping against stone.

A hulking figure appeared out of the mist and started shambling towards Jagvier. The large human was covered in decaying furs, his unruly, tangled, black hair wired around his head. Blood and spit frothed out of his mouth and a lifeless stare bore into Ellaria’s eyes. He dragged his greataxe behind him, then with a mighty heave, brought it up to his other hand, growling, and lumbering towards Jagvier from behind.

Jagvier stood and stared in confusion as the massive human raised the greataxe over his head, and moved towards him. The greataxe swung down hard towards Jagvier, but missed, giving Jagvier a chance to draw his sword and shield. Ellaria dashed towards Jagveir and shouted, “LYCAEUS!”

She heard what sounded like a sack hit the cobblestone and footsteps running towards her. Lycaeus started to materialize out of the mist as he sprinted quickly towards her, his daggers drawn at his sides. Both of them continued to run towards Jagvier and the attacking human as it swung at Jagvier again, but sank it’s greataxe into the small wooden side porch. Ellaria grasped her staff tightly.

“Let’s take you for a spin.” She said to it. As she focused, a beam of light came out of the caged orb and enveloped Jagvier in radiant sunlight. Lycaeus crept behind the slobbering barbarian and sank his daggers into it’s ribs as Jagvier sliced at it’s knees. The creature snarled and frothed in pain, craning it’s head towards Lycaeus. Ellaria shot another beam of light, this time at Lycaeus, and a glyph of protection appeared above him.

Infuriated, the beastly human swang his greataxe with full force down on Jagvier, slicing through his armor with a sickening _crunch_ as it crashed through muscle and bone. Jagvier howled and weakly swung his sword at the creature, bleeding profusely down his arm and out of his gauntlet and barely holding his shield up.

Ellaria summoned her remaining strength and shot a firebolt at the barbarian, but missed, hitting the surrounding splintered porch and setting it on fire around a now kneeling Jagvier. He looked up wearily at the barbarian, putting his hand up to brace the impacting blow from the raised greataxe above him as the window in the side door shattered, crashing glass and fire into the shop. The door behind Jagvier flew open and an angry Perrywomple cried out as he thrust his spear through the barbarian’s neck. Perrywomple slammed the tip of the spear into the ground, impaling the barbarian as he tried to fumble at the spear in it’s neck. The barbarian made a gurgling noise as blood poured out and it sank on it’s knees as it slowly collapsed to the ground.

Ellaria thought quickly.

“Who…. Who break house?!” Perrywomple demanded angrily.

“Oh! Oh Perrywomple!” She gasped as she ran over to Jagvier. “This brute came out of nowhere! I didn’t think we would survive if you hadn’t shown up! You saved us! Thank you! Oh thank you!”

“You… you thank Perrywomple?” Perrywomple asked.

“Yes! Thank you!” Ellaria said as she kissed his cheek.

Perrywomple turned a bright hue of scarlet and stuttered as Ellaria dragged Jagvier’s large arm over her delicate shoulders.

“I… you… you are welcome” Perrywomple finally replied as he helped get Jagvier to his feet, leaning on Ellaria.

She glared at Lycaeus and he looked like he just remembered his manners. 

“I… er… that was a close one. Here, for your troubles.” Lycaeus quipped as he pressed 3 gold coins into Perrywomple’s large hand.

An elated expression crossed Perrywomple’s face, and he seemed very pleased with himself.

Lycaeus picked up the paladin’s other arm over his shoulders and helped Ellaria drag his massive frame back towards the mansion. Villagers who heard the commotion started to come out of their homes and peek out their windows. Ellaria heard Bildrath’s voice behind her, “What in the hell is going on here?! What happened to my store?!” She could hear him fuming from where she was and a small smile started to pull at her lips.

Perrywomple started to explain with pride, “This.. this man tried to hurt pretty elf lady and stab people and I stab bad man in neck…”

Finally reaching the door of the mansion, Ellaria, exhausted, called out “Ireena! Jagvier is injured! Open the door!” as Lycaeus knocked on the windows in the specific pattern Ireena previously directed. Ismark’s pale face peeked through the door and a hurried clicking could be heard on the other side as the siblings finally wrenched the heavy door open.

“My God! What happened to you?! You just went to the tavern! What kind of drinking were you doing?!” Ismark exclaimed.

Ellaria stumbled in and unceremoniously dumped Jagvier’s delirious body onto the hard wooden floor.

“Too… much…” replied Jagvier, fading in and out of consciousness.

Ellaria meanwhile, stormed up the stairs, cursing under her breath in Elvish and common, “Never listening to any of you again, vishante ar la vath bellanaris…” Her orb glowed a bright crimson red and crackled through the glass cage at the top of her staff. 

Gwynnhwyfar peeked out of her door as Ellaria stomped up the final step. "What's going on? How was your date?" She asked, completely oblivious to Ellaria's stormy expression.

Ellaria seethed as she walked through her door, "Lycaeus and Jagvier are both idiots and I'm going to bed. Do not disturb me for the next four hours or I will annihilate anyone who comes through my door so help me Goddess..." 

"Just put a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door!" Gwynnhwyfar called after her.

Everyone else stood stunned and winced as they heard the door slam upstairs.


	12. Laid to Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mayor is laid to rest at the church, but something terrible lurks in the basement.

Ellaria descended the stairs the next morning, still fuming slightly and braiding her long red hair. Most of the group was awake and ready for the funeral. Ireena and Ismark both were dressed in fine black funeral clothes with somber expressions on their faces, and Ismark wrapped his arm around a teary Ireena reassuringly. Jagvier, however, still lay on the hard floor, snoring.

Ellaria pursed her lips and deliberated cracking him on the head with her staff but settled for a good _smack_ with her hand.

“Get up, you lout” Ellaria hissed, still recalling the events from the previous night.

“Mmmm… oh yes, I love the pink candies.” Murmured Jagvier. Ellaria blinked, looking around to see if anyone else heard it, but everyone else was busy with their morning tasks. She felt her patience thin even more and kicked Jagvier in the ribs, but then suddenly remembering he was wearing armor. Ellaria yelped softly to herself and held her toe where it made contact with the plate, but Jagvier finally seemed to wake up with a sputter.

He looked up at a now very cross Ellaria quizzically with a cocked eyebrow. “What happened?” He asked.

“Nothing. Get up and help carry the coffin.” Ellaria barked at him, trying to hide her limp as she walked away.

*****

Ellaria was the last out the door, pulling closed behind her. Ireena and Ismark lead the funeral procession, the foot of the coffin on their shoulders. Gowan, Neri, Remmington, and Jagvier carried the coffin’s midsection and head, and Ellaria, Lycaeus, and Gwynnhwyfar trailed behind.

Before they left, Ireena asked them to take from the house whatever they thought may be useful. Ellaria noticed a case of beautiful silver carving knives and dumped them into her satchel.

 _“This should help with any lycanthropes we meet.”_ She thought to herself. She also pilfered a set of silver butter knives, hoping she could grind or melt them into something useful. The knives clanged in her satchel as they walked down the street, and she reached down in the bag to silence them.

Passing by Bildreath’s Mercantile, Perrywomple and Bildreath were repairing the now scorched, splintered, and shattered side porch and door from the incident the previous night. Perrywomple paused from hammering a reinforcing board on the porch, blushed, and waved at Ellaria. Ellaria smiled broadly and waved back at her new friend. Bildreath picked his head up, looked at Perrywomple, then at the source of his happiness, then back at Perrywomple, smacking him lightly on the side of the cheek.

“Oi” Ellaria heard a familiar greasy voice from slightly behind and felt Bildreath’s beady eyes staring at her.

“How ‘bout that drink later, sweetheart?” She turned her head towards him, closed her eyes, and blew a prim, quiet raspberry at him. She was used to the odd rude comment from men, but this was a first for her – being catcalled during a funeral procession.

“Ah, I like ‘em firey! I’ll see you later, love!” Bildreath shouted behind her. Lycaeus couldn’t contain his snickering and Ellaria punched him in the arm, which only made him laugh harder.

She briefly considered setting his shop on fire again but dismissed the thought immediately. Jagvier, too, looked like he wanted to teach Bildreath some manners, but stopped himself and continued to carry the coffin.

The group approached the stone church surrounded by a decrepit iron gate atop the only hill in town, rising above the other houses in the village. A quiet mist blanketed the graves surrounding the church, most of them overgrown with weeds and wildflowers. The church itself stood, but barely, as if being held together by some miracle – sagging stonework and wood almost looked like it was melting into the ground. Holes in the roof swallowed what little sunlight radiated out of the clouds above, and remnants of poorly attempted patching attempts hung in odd places around the openings. The heavy wooden front doors still stood tall and bracketed with iron fittings that didn’t seem well maintained. A frayed rope hung in front of the doorway that seemed to reach up into the crumbling belfry, which Gwynnhwyfar pulled without hesitation.

The bells of the church tolled in a minor key. Usually, the temple bells where Ellaria once served rang in bright, joyful songs, but in this land of despair and foreboding, even the music had a depressing tone to it.

A small, portly man in tattered priest’s robes pushed the great doors open, raising his eyebrows in familiarity seeing Ireena and Ismark. He had heavy dark bags under his eyes and the lines on his face were deep and cracked.

“Ah, what can I do for you, my children?” He asked.

Ireena stepped to the side, revealing the foot of the coffin. “It’s father. He… he passed in the night.” Her voice cracked.

A somber look passed over the priest’s face. “Ireena, Ismark… my sincere condolences.” He gestured the group to come inside. “Please. Please come in.”

The group lumbered in with the coffin on their shoulders and Gwynnhwyfar closed the doors behind them, placing the locking bar in it’s holding place.

The inside of the church was in shambles. Pews that once sat in orderly lines now were strewn about the main chamber and splintered into pieces, with only a few that provided any seating. The alter was covered in dirty, torn cloth and an effigy of the Morninglord certainly needed a good polishing. 

“Father Donnovitch, these are my friends. They are here to help me with the burial at our family’s plot. If you’d be so kind, I’d like to start now.” Ireena stated.

“Ah, of course, of course.” Father Donnovitch seemed to hurry off towards a side door. “You must forgive me, I didn’t expect your father’s passing so soon. I will need some extra help digging the grave.”

“Of course, father.” Ismark answered. Ellaria nodded at him as he looked over to her.

Suddenly, a howling scream pierced the quiet church. The group glanced at eachother with alarmed expressions.

“What was that, Father?” Gwynnhwyfar asked.

Father Donnovitch stammered. “Errrr… That is Doru, my son. He is… not well. We keep him in his chambers in the basement for his own safety.” He ushered Ireena and Ismark outside quickly.

Gwynnhwyfar pulled Lycaeus aside and whispered, “Something isn’t right here.”

Lycaeus nodded at Remmington and they both slipped quietly to the back of the group. Ellaria placed her hand on Lycaeus’s back murmured a quick blessing. Warmth poured through her fingertips and into Lycaeus’s body.

“If you do find something, come find us outside.” She whispered in elvish.

*****

Ellaria wiped her brow as sweat trickled down her temples. It only took them an hour to dig the grave, but manual labor wasn’t easy for Ellaria. At the temple, they just cremated followers, which was much easier than maintaining a graveyard.

Suddenly, Lycaeus and Remmington burst through the church doors, breathing heavily. Ellaria, Neri, and Gwynnhwyfar stared wide-eyed at them.

“There’s a vampire spawn in the basement!” Lycaeus exclaimed in elvish, breathlessly, his hands on his knees huffing for air from sprinting out of the church.

Ellaria cursed in response and everyone paused.

“What did you say?” Ireena asked.

Ellaria hitched a breath. She wasn’t counting on the humans to understand, and apparently, neither was Lycaeus judging by the matching expression of alarm on his face.

Ireena stood up straighter and leaned on her shovel. “What… did you see in the basement?” She repeated tersely.

Lycaeus stood stunned with the rest of the group, searching for a way out on the other’s faces, but to no avail.

Ireena tossed her shovel to the ground and turned to Father Donnovitch.

“I’m going to ask once. What. Is in. The basement.” She asked pointedly. “I’ve heard the stories. Now tell me the truth.”

All the color ran out of Father Donnovitch’s face and he started to sweat profusely, raising his hands in front of him in defense as he stammered. “I… It’s nothing! It’s just Doru. He ran off one day and he came back and he was very ill.” His demeanor darkened. “And… he started trying to bite me… and others who tried to help him, to cleanse him. I put him in the basement until I could figure out how to save him, but all he craves is blood.” He sighed. “I’ve been praying for a miracle, but nothing has happened. He hasn’t really hurt anyone, but… I sent someone down to cleanse him, but they haven’t returned in two weeks…” He trailed off, his voice starting to crack.

Ellaria could feel anger and heat rising in her body.

“Does your son still have his mind?” Ellaria asked quietly.

“I can still sense him in there, somewhere, which is why I think I can help him. I hear him calling for me at night and he sounds so sweet and peaceful, like the boy he once was. And when I go to him, that’s when he turns into a beast.” He replied.

Ismark put a comforting hand on the Father’s back. “This…. This seems like Strahd’s doing. Doru had not been seen for quite some time. We feared he was lost or killed…” Ismark explained.

The father sank his head into his hands, weeping.

“What do you intend to do, Father, if you cannot save him?” Ellaria asked, her patience wearing thin.

“I must save him… he’s my son…” Father Donnovitch answered tearfully.

Ellaria interrupted him angrily, “Would you like me to tell you what happens? When a vampire spawn is allowed to live? I’ve seen it.”

“Please! Help him, if you can.” He plead.

Ellaria recollected herself.

“Father, I don’t say this lightly. It seems your son has not fully given into his vampire form. Possibly he still has some semblance of the boy he once was. But once he transforms, you cannot fathom the hell he will unleash upon this village, and you will have blood of innocents on YOUR hands.” Ellaria angrily explained.

“Father, I hate to say it, but the cleric is right. The only reprieve for your son… is death.” Jagvier added.

A wave of realization washed over the priest and he collapsed on his knees, sobbing. There was no hopeful resolution for his son except death. Ireena and Ismark dropped to their knees as well, putting comforting arms around Father Donnovitch.

Ireena looked up at the group.

“If you can…” she began, but paused, realizing there was no other way. “Do what you must.” She bowed her head. “But do not let him see it.”

Ellaria turned to the group and nodded towards the doors. The rest silently followed in agreement.

****

Ellaria grimaced as she looked down at the trap door, underneath which Doru screeched and clawed at it from the other side. She already picked up two rather large wooden stakes from the remnants of the pews in the sanctuary and sprayed them with holy water.

“Any ideas? We can’t let it escape.” Remmington remarked.

Lycaeus lifted the chain holding the door shut gingerly, but a gray, clawed hand immediately reached out and scraped against the stone floor, clawling wildly at the air. Jagvier put his heavy foot on the trap door and the creature screamed and gasped, wrenching it’s hand back into the pit.

“Hmmmm” Ellaria heard behind her. She just realized that Gowan was missing from the group this entire time and he just reappeared holding a giant metal pike.

“Where did you… never mind.” Neri began to ask, but shook her head instead.

Gowan didn’t’ even acknowledge her and started to poke at the opening in the church roof where sunlight started to pour through. The roof started to crumble as gowan picked at it, letting more sunlight in as it started to cover the entire door opening.

Jagvier grasped at the door handle and looked at the group. Ellaria drew her staff and the rest of them nodded at him and he yanked open the door with a mighty heave, almost breaking the door off it’s hinges. Sunlight beamed down into the basement pit.

Silence.

“Lux.” She whispered and touched her orb, then gently prodded it down into the basement opening. 

A ladder descended into inky darkness and a musty stone smell wafted from the pit. Another stomach-turning scent drifted up towards the opening.

Blood. 

Ellaria could see decrepit stone walls that lined the small room and the railing of what seemed to be a shallow stone staircase leading to a dirt floor. 

Jagvier, however, was finished looking and wordlessly descended the ladder. Ellaria took a deep breath and followed.

When she reached the bottom, she whirled her lit orb around, trying to spot the inhabitants. The basement smelled of excrement, blood, and stagnant water, which dripped in from a crack in the ceiling. Ellaria’s eyes watered and she put a sleeve over her nose. Dead rats, mice, and other creatures that had the misfortune of finding their way into the basement were sucked dry of blood, their rotting carcasses strewn across the basement floor. The creatures must have been held down here for months, possibly at least a year.

“Ugh, the smell. Que scihifo…” Remmington mumbled, wrinkling his nose as he stepped off the ladder. He made a small yelping noise as his boot crunched on a dead mouse, or at least, what was left of it. The rest of the party made similar comments and noises as they joined Jagvier and Ellaria at the bottom. Jagvier ventured forth, sword and shield drawn.

An unnatural silence filled the basement.

 _“Where are they?_ ” She thought. Just then, she noticed a clear mucous-like substance dripping from the ceiling above Jagvier. She followed the stream upwards with her eyes and saw a head of black hair, and a gray body covered in tattered priest clothes clinging to the ceiling.

The head snapped around with a sickening _crunch_ and the creature shrieked as Ellaria fired a guiding bolt at it. As the spell landed, the vampire yelped and scuttled behind a pillar further back into the basement. A second scratching attracted her attention to the wall on the opposite side where another vampire – Duro – clung to the wall.

“I can… I can smell your blood” Doru sniffed the air, hissed, and licked his bloody lips.

Remmington grabbed his flute from his satchel. His eyes faded from green to the familiar bright purple and a silvery magic mist emanated from him as he recited:

_Look at you, what’s the deal?_

_Always trying to make us the meal._

_Stop trying to eat us like we’re the food_

_Cuz all you do is ruin the mood._

_Slashing, bashing, clawing at us,_

_We’ll beat your ass, you’d better trust._

The vampire held it’s head and screamed, recoiling further behind the pillar. 

Lycaeus crept behind the vampire on the floor. His green eyes seemed to glow in the darkness as he moved quickly, slashing at the vampire on the low ceiling. His dagger found purchase and slashed at the vampire’s ribs. It hissed at him, swiping with it’s claws as Lycaeus narrowly dodged out of harm’s way.

Doru vaulted off of the wall towards Neri and sank his claws into the back of her shoulder. Neri shouted in pain as Gowan grabbed the vampire by the back of the head and threw it back towards the wall. She sank to a knee, but was able to stand again slowly, blood pouring out of the wound down her back, but holding her quarterstaff steadily in front of her. Doru cackled and licked his hand vigorously, grinning with sharp teeth at both of them, “I… I tastes it!”

Jagvier lumbered over to Neri and placed a broad hand on the wound, mumbling some chant to his god. She hissed in pain at first, but then sighed as gentle static electricity mended her flesh back together.

Gowan removed his crossbow from his back and leveled it at Doru. The crossbow fired with a loud clack and the bolt lodged itself in Doru’s back. Doru hissed and flailed wildly, finally ripping the bolt out of his body and throwing it back at Gowan, instead sending it skittering across the dirt floor. Ellaria pointed her staff’s orb above her and a stream of light shot out next to Doru, taking the form of a brilliant white scythe that slashed and swung at him.

Remmington screamed behind them. The other vampire had silently crept towards him and now had him in a grapple, furiously clawing at his body and snapping it’s jaws to bite his neck. Gwynnhwyfar reacted quickly, pulling at her magic, and spectral vines sprang from the dirt floor, restraining the vampire. Remmington, however, was also under the vampire’s spell and was unable to move.

Ellaria, along with Neri and Gowan, kept their weapons pointed at Doru while Jagvier and Lycaeus ran over to Remmington. As Lycaeus ran past her, Ellaria handed him one of the wooden stakes from her satchel. She fired off another guiding bolt at Doru, hitting him squarely in the nose as Neri and Gowan charged, striking and slashing at him. 

Doru clawed at the air in front of him, but Neri and Gowan almost danced around him gracefully, dodging every strike with ease. Neri drove her staff into the dirt floor, vaulting herself towards the vampire and sank both her heels into it’s spine with a loud _crunch_. Doru dropped off the wall, gasping for air, blood pouring out of one of his ears onto the floor. Meanwhile, Gowan spun his swords quickly in the air, bringing them down with a shout into Doru’s neck like twin fangs. Doru screamed and flailed, sinking his claws into Neri again, but she didn’t even flinch as a flurry of Neri’s fists pummeled him into the dirt floor and Gowan’s swords stabbed and slashed at him. 

“Get this thing off me!” Remmington yelled, but unable to struggle. Lycaeus moved to stake the vampire, but stopped, realizing he would pierce Remmington’s body as well. Gwynnhwyfar shouted, “I can’t hold him much longer!” As the spectral vines started to snap and the vampire struggled with great effort. Gwynnhwyfar leaned back and pulled at the air and bright green light started radiating from her hands and eyes, as if she was physically holding onto the vines to better restrain the vampire. Lycaeus attempted to stab the vampire through the side but missed as the vampire started to rock back and forth, wiggling it’s way out of the vines.

Jagvier charged his hands and grasped Remmington and nodded at Lycaeus. Lycaeus drove the stake through the vampire’s heart as it wailed, blood spurting out of it’s mouth. Remmington screamed in agony, but Jagvier was right there to close the wound as soon as the vampire pulled the stake back out. The vampire released Remmington and scurried back up the pillar on the ceiling. It spat and hissed at Lycaeus and he snarled back at it with a deep growl; the vampire’s blood dripped down the stake onto Lycaeus’s hand, making a small puddle on the floor. Jagvier helped Remmington back up to his feet, and they both nodded to each other. 

Remmington summoned his strength again and pulled at his own magic. The vampire started to giggle, then fell to the floor in a raucous laughter, rolling around and grasping it’s stomach. The laughter wasn’t joyful, more of an evil forced cackle with wide eyes and drooling where it’s face rested on the floor.

Meanwhile, Doru jumped up on the ceiling from the floor, but the blood pouring out of the wound the crossbow bolt left started to ebb from a steady flow to a trickle. His bones seemed to snap back into place by themselves, mending the thousands of shattered fragments into whole pieces again. Doru lapped at Neri’s blood on his claw greedily, slurping and sucking on his fingers as he made gleeful noises to himself.

Ellaria cursed to herself. “They can heal… I had forgotten.” With a shout, she fired another guiding bolt at Doru and the wound shape stopped shrinking.

“Hit it with fire or light if you can!” Ellaria shouted. “It seems to stop the healing powers!” Ellaria waved her staff in the air in a circle and the spectral scythe sailed through the air, sinking it’s blade into Doru again. Gwynnhwyfar sent a firebolt in Doru’s direction, hitting the vampire in the chest. Doru let out a high pitch screech as he burned into ashes, piling up neatly on the floor.

Weary from battle and realizing their talents would be of no help, Neri and Gowan retired to the dusty corner of the room. They watched as their allies fought the vampires with flame and sword. Both slumped against the side wall, feeling useless against these monsters and their healing powers. With hushed voices, Neri urged Gowan to purchase some armor the next time they could. She also wished she had a staff capable of flames or lightning, or something helpful to the party. She daydreamed of a lightning staff which would be able to fight these beasts.

Ellaria turned her attention to the other vampire who was still laughing on the floor, and sent her scythe flying at full speed towards the other vampire, slashing and striking it in the back. She fired another guiding bolt, but this one sailed over it’s prone writhing body. Gwynnhwyfar coated her hands in flames and shot them out towards the vampire while Lycaeus stabbed with the stake and his dagger. The vampire, finally regaining it’s senses, screamed and stumbled back towards the corner of the room. Lycaeus flipped his dagger around and gripped the tip, arching his arm back. He sent the dagger flying and it landed with a sickening _thud_ into the vampire’s forehead.

The vampire, finally silenced, sank slowly to the dirt floor, fell over, and dissipated into ash.

Silence filled the chamber again, save for the heavy breathing of the group. Ellaria gingerly walked over to the ash pile that was once Doru and removed a small vial from her satchel. She reverently scooped up some of the ashes into it and popped the cork on, murmuring a soft prayer for his soul.

“Rest now, young Doru. Your torment is over.” She said quietly.

****

The priest sat on one of the broken pews, his shoulders still shaking and gazing at the alter in the front of the sanctuary. Ireena and Ismark comforted them as best they could in silence – they both knew there was nothing that could be said to erase his pain, so they instead were present; Ireena held the frail old man’s hand and Ismark placed a reassuring arm on his shoulder.

The group walked into the room, weary from the fight and covered in mud and blood. Father Donnovitch stood quickly and searched their faces for a miracle. Some kind of hope that his son still lived and would walk out of the basement door whole again. 

Instead, Ellaria reached into her pocket and presented the small vial of ash.

“I… I’m so sorry father. His death was as quick as we could make it.” She said softly.

Father Donnovitch swallowed a sob and nodded tearfully. “Thank you.” Was all he could muster as he gestured outside.

****

The sun was still just coming up over the distant mountains and Ismark took his place at the front of the group. The newly etched gravestone showed the mayor’s name in crisp letters and “In Loving Memory” was engraved in large letters at the foot of the tombstone. The coffin lay in the ground, having been previously lowered reverently into the grave by the group. Ismark nodded to Ireena, who nodded back to him.

“Losing my father is one of the most difficult things I’ve faced in life.” He started. “I’m standing here today, realizing how fortunate I am to have him as my father. There are no words to express the gravity of his influence in my life, but it is through his example that I learned how to be the man I am today. My father was hard-working, strong, loving, and gentle. He loved his family, and he was deeply devoted to his wife and children. However, he was no saint by any stretch of the imagination. But in his final years, he did his best to protect Ireena and myself. He showed strength and love right up until his last days. I only hope that one day, after I join my father in the afterlife, my own children can look back on my life, tell joyous stories about me, and know how much I love them, as I know my father loved me. If this comes to pass, I will know I have lead a complete life, like my father.”

Ireena stepped up next.

“While I did not know my own father, this man was more of a father to me than any daughter could truly ask for. He loved me, cherished me, and provided for me a life that most in this land could only pray for. He did all he could to protect me and did so until his heart literally gave out.” She turned towards the coffin in the ground. “I promise you this, father. I will not let you down, I will fight back, and if it’s the last thing I do, I will rid this land of the darkness that shadows it.”

Remmington was the next to speak.

“I may not have known this man, but a father’s love knows no bounds. With his protection and love for his children, let him be remembered for such. May he be blessed in the afterlife and rest in peace.” He said softly. Remmington plucked at his lute, and the mist seemed to clear as the tune played.

Tears gathered in Ellaria’s eyes hearing the sweet, but somber song, thinking of her own parents and how much she missed them. 

After Remmington finished, Ellaria finally stepped up. She held the orb on her staff out in front of her, and projected light onto it, pointing it at the deceased.

“ _May the Dawnfather's pride shine upon you,_

_May the Everlight's grace guide you,_

_May the Moonweaver light your path in darkness,_

_And may the angels of Elyssium guide you to the Fields of Gold._

_Blessed are they who stand before_

_The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter._

_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just._

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow._

_In their blood the divine's will is written._

_Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted._

_Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,_

_For they will be fulfilled._

_And Blessed are those who are persecuted,_

_For theirs is the Kingdom of Elyssium.”_

Ireena’s shoulders shook as tears ran down her face, and Ismark put a comforting arm around her.

Suddenly, the mist seemed to gather from all around them. At the church gates, a shadowy figure stood tall, clad in black, with his head bowed in prayer. Ellaria tried to make out the features of the man, but the mist obscured his face and clothes. She tapped Neri and Gowan on their shoulders and they picked up their heads towards the mysterious figure.

Father Donnovitch, however, seemed not to notice, and prayed aloud:

“Almighty Dawnfather, as you brought Quayen into this life, so now you have called him into life everlasting. We commit his body to the ground, his final resting place. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. In the hope of the resurrection unto eternal life, praise be to Pelor, our Father of the Dawn.”

From the church gate strode another figure, shorter than the first, but with exquisite elven leather armor, swords, and fine, elegant elven facial features. His pale skin reflected what clouded sunlight beamed down on them and his dark, dead eyes gazed at them. Ellaria heard Remmington draw his sword. He finally stopped in front of Ireena and bowed his head low.

“I extend my greetings to you all on behalf of my master. May I offer his and my deepest condolences to you, my lady, and Ismark.” He airily remarked, handing a fine parchment letter sealed with red wax to Ireena, which she took from his hand wordlessly.

The mysterious man then turned on his heels, and walked back towards the church gate.

“Hey, wait a minute, who are you?!” Gwynnhwyfar called out after him. 

Jagvier channeled his magic, but Ellaria clasped over her ears immediately, as did the rest of the group. A deafening, high pitched screaming, seeming to come from a thousand voices, rang in their ears. Jagvier sank to his knees and groaned, covering his hears with his large hands. It appeared the counterspell affected him the most.

Ellaria tried to cast a sacred flame spell at him to make it stop, but with a flick of the man’s wrist, she felt her magic leave her body. She clutched at her chest and fell to her hands and knees as her strength was suddenly sucked out of her, and she gasped for air like a fish out of water.

The man continued walking, not even making any effort to acknowledge them.

“Coward!” Yelled Gwynnhwyfar. The man moved _through_ the fence and re-materialized on the other side as if the fence was air. His other hand swished in the air, and Gwynnhwyfar screamed and grasped her head. Lycaeus snarled and started after him, drawing his daggers, but Neri put her arm in front of him to hold him back.

The mist rolled back and a dark foreboding replaced it. The men disappeared into the mist as quickly as they came.


End file.
